Wait, What?
by Publicola
Summary: Points of divergence in the Harry Potter universe. Those moments where someone really ought to have taken a step back and asked, "Wait, what?" An ongoing collection of one-shots. Episode 15: He Who Must Not Be Named.
1. The Tragedy at King's Cross

I don't own Harry Potter. This one-shot contains content from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,' which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

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**The Tragedy at King's Cross**

"**Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening in my head?"**

**Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.**

"**Of course it is happening in your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it's not real?"**

In that instant the bright mist flickered, as Harry stood stock still.

"Wait, what?"

The mist receded on a frowning Dumbledore. "What's that, my boy?"

"If this is both real and in my head, then… how are you here? I'm here because this is my mind. That _thing_" (Harry pointed at the miniature Voldemort in disgust) "is the horcrux in my scar. But why are you here? _How_ are you here?"

Dumbledore's features flashed with a kind of severity, then resumed their customary twinkle. "Harry, you forget that not even death can overcome the magics of love. You bore me in your heart, just as you bore James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius. And just as you summoned their spirits in your need for comfort before your sacrifice, so too did you summon me."

Harry nodded reflexively, and the mist descended again. But then his eyes narrowed in thought, "But that was the Resurrection Stone! It took a Deathly Hallow to summon my parents. How could I call you without it in hand?"

Again, the mist receded, and Dumbledore took on a disappointed demeanor. "Harry, my boy, this is the Old Magic of sacrificial love. Can you not accept its mystery without indulging your need for explanation?"

Harry bowed his head contritely. But in a flash his mind broke free, running the trail of logic with winged feet.

Dumbledore said this was all in his head, but in the same breath called it real. Dumbledore had died. Yet somehow Dumbledore was really present inside his head. Dumbledore implied it had to do with the Stone, but Harry had used that to summon his parents, and they had disappeared when he dropped it in the forest. Dumbledore didn't want to give him specifics. And frankly, the realization that Dumbledore was inside his head was… actually quite a bit creepy.

He glanced up at the beatific face of his old Headmaster. "Sir, before I return, I'd still like to know."

Dumbledore sighed and removed his half-moon glasses. Rubbing them with a handkerchief he somehow conjured, he began.

"Harry, what you see around you is commonly called a mindscape. When you studied occlumency with Professor Snape, he told you to clear your mind – that is, tamp down on your emotions and stray thoughts in order to access this very place. Now, this place does not merely represent your mind. As you can see by the presence of the horcrux from your scar, it also reflects your soul."

Dumbledore smiled, though Harry found himself increasingly uncomfortable with the look in the Headmaster's eyes. "Now, this is where it gets interesting. As you know, I was struck with a rather fatal curse when I took the ring horcrux from the Gaunt house. But I had a year before it would take my life, a year to prepare myself, and on top of that I possessed both the Wand and the Stone. It took me some time, but I found a way."

Out of nowhere a bludgeoning hex hit Harry in the diaphragm. He collapsed breathlessly, as Dumbledore stood triumphantly before him. "Yes, Harry, you were on the right track. If this is your soul-scape, then there's no way I should be here unless my soul were here as well."

Shackles flew and attached themselves to Harry's wrists and ankles. "Tom was a fool. He attached his horcrux to the ring, not the Stone. But I, using the Elder Wand, anchored my soul to the Stone itself, which could then summon my entire soul after my death on the Astronomy Tower. Then I merely added a trigger to the flesh memory on the snitch, and it was the easiest thing in the world for me to enter and take control of your soul-scape."

He looked down at his sputtering and helpless host. "Of course, it would have been far more difficult to subdue you had your mindscape not been already prepared for me. You can thank Severus for that – really, how did you not realize that the entire purpose of the occlumency lessons was to give Severus a chance to wreck havoc upon this place?"

He leaned down to look Harry in the eyes. "Of course, my boy, you still have your destiny to fulfill. So you must return to defeat Tom, and then we'll finish this tete-a-tete?"

He rose to his full height, wand in hand. "Obliviate!"

**The bright mist was descending again…**

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Author's Note(s): While the line "why on earth should that mean it's not real" was intended as a oblique reference to the after-life, it still struck me as a rather odd expression. Then I wondered what it would mean if it were true, and Dumbledore's spirit was somehow possessing Harry.

I was also struck by the oddity of the Resurrection Stone. Assuming everything that Harry learned in canon were true, how would a real mother react if her son was in that situation? Your son has been made into a martyr and is even now walking to his death. "I'm proud of you" doesn't seem to cut it.

So: Dumbledore made a horcrux out of the Resurrection Stone, possessed Harry (presenting the memories of James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus to draw him in, just as the locket horcrux presented Harry/Hermione to draw in Ron), faded to the background so he could defeat Voldemort, then gradually took over (like the diary that drained Ginny). And nineteen years later, a Harry with twinkling green eyes would send his son Albus Severus to Hogwarts.

Depressing, no?

Actually, I had quite a hard time deciding how to finish this one-shot. I was initially inclined to expand it, to make it a Battle Royal for Harry's soul to parallel the Last Battle going on in the real world. But then I realized that canon!Harry wouldn't stand a chance against Dumbledore. My instinct was for a happy ending, but then I realized that Harry would need a LOT more prep time before he would have a chance of winning, which would require a more complete AU. So, at least for the one-shot, a tragic ending suffices.


	2. Summary Execution

I don't own Harry Potter or Hermione Granger. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," which belongs to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

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**Episode 2: Summary Execution**

"**Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.**

"**You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out -"**

"**What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -"**

"**There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"**

**Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and a hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.-**

"**When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice; he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. "He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch -"**

"**I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but -"**

"**My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous -"**

**But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.**

"**The moment that - that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and - and -"**

**Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.**

"**By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths."**

_Wait… what?_

Hermione's thoughts shuddered, stuttered, and rumbled to a stop. She tracked the conversation, her mind on autopilot, her attention firmly fixed elsewhere. She vaguely heard Fudge leave, still mumbling under his breath "He can't be back, he can't be…."

The first thing she noticed as she returned to her senses was the incongruous sight of a fat green beetle on the window sill. Acting on reflex she slammed her hand over it, but in her absent-mindedness it escaped her clutches and flew away. Then she remembered where she was, and saw Harry and Mrs. Weasley looked oddly at her. "Sorry," she whispered sheepily.

Mrs. Weasley turned back to the bedridden boy, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "Your potion, Harry."

"Wait," Hermione interjected before Harry could take it, "could I have a moment with him first?"

Mrs. Weasley looked askance and Ron looked mutinous, but Harry nodded and they both took their leave.

Hermione sat down heavily on the bed beside Harry. He nodded towards the window, "What was that?"

She shook her head, "Nothing. Just… a loose end, that's all." Harry shrugged, and they rested in silence for another minute.

But then he heard a faint noise, like a whimper, and turning to Hermione saw that her shoulders were shaking. He reached out and rested a hand on her, and she turned to him. Her eyes were bleary and red-rimmed, but her face was impassive. Then something inside her broke and she collapsed into him, bawling.

He had never comforted a crying girl before, but this was Hermione, so he patted her on the back as he'd seen Petunia do for Dudley, that one time his cousin had scraped his knee. It was enough to staunch the flow of tears, but did nothing for her hysteria.

"Oh my God oh my God, Harry, what do I do, what do we do?"

Harry propped his head up to look at her, feeling somehow calmer in this moment of calming his friend. "We tell people that he's back; we tell them what Cedric died for."

She shook her head, her hair splaying over his head and chest. "No, no, not that. Well, yes that, but no… ah!" She groaned in frustration, then lifted her head to look Harry in the eye. "Harry, what we just heard, it's worse than just You-Know-Who coming back. You heard Minister Fudge. He brought a dementor with him to visit the prisoner, and it wound up giving him the Kiss. Harry, he killed someone, and no one did anything! Not even Dumbledore, and he's the Chief Warlock !"

Harry cocked his head at her, perplexed. She sighed and explained, "Harry, Dumbledore is more than just our Headmaster. He basically runs the court system." She frowned in sudden concentration. "But that means…." Her eyes took on the familiar look of perfect determination for a second, before she glanced back at a still-confounded Harry.

She dried her eyes and sat up. "Harry, killing someone without a trial is called 'summary execution,' and it basically only happens in places where there is a complete breakdown in law and order. The fact that the prisoner was killed in the presence of Minister Fudge…."

She shivered. "Harry, think about it. Think about everything that's wrong with the story here. Dementors are incredibly dangerous magical creatures – they guard Azkaban, not the Minister of Magic! That's why there are Aurors! Why would Fudge bring a dementor all the way from Azkaban unless..." she paled. "Harry, what if he brought it with him specifically in order to get rid of the prisoner?"

Harry, so recently overwhelmed by the memory of the graveyard and Cedric's death, was beginning to catch on. "Wait, you think Fudge knew what Barty Crouch was going to say?"

Hermione nodded, "Well, if not him than somebody did, and got rid of him before he could tell anyone else the truth."

Harry replied speculatively. "But the only ones who knew would be Voldemort or one of his followers from the graveyard… Malfoy! It makes sense. I escaped and the next thing he hears we have a Death Eater imprisoned at Hogwarts!"

Hermione pressed on, "And we know Fudge is in his pocket. But Harry, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He got Fudge to kill the prisoner without a trial, without even hearing the evidence. The Minister for Magic! And no one could do anything!"

Her eyes began to tear. "Harry, I don't even know what to think anymore. I thought the Wizarding World was just like ours, but now..." She trailed off. "I just learned that I live in a society where the Minister for Magic can execute someone without a trial, and not even the Chief Warlock will hold him accountable."

Suddenly her eyes widened in fear, and Harry saw tremors race up and down her body. He held her to him again, and at length heard her speak, her voice far more faint than before.

"Harry, you heard what he said. He thinks you're delusional, or a dark wizard. He's friends with Death Eaters, and he's convinced that you and Dumbledore are trying to destabilize his government! Harry!" She whispered in frenzy. "What if he blames you for Cedric? What if he tries to kill you?" She hiccupped.

Harry held her, the silence belying his swirling thoughts. He didn't like it, but he realized she was right. Fudge had done the unthinkable, and no one had stopped him.

"Hermione." He called. "Hermione!" He shook her slightly. Her eyes drooped in exhaustion. "You're right. You're absolutely right. But what can we do? It's another month before term ends, and then I have to go back to my aunt and uncle's. Besides, can't Dumbledore protect us?"

At this her eyes narrowed. "Harry, I'm not sure he will. You heard what he said to Fudge: he was more concerned that Crouch couldn't testify about You-Know-Who, than the fact that Crouch didn't get a trial. That's another thing. Harry, Crouch isn't the only one we know who didn't get a trial." Her voice dropped. "What about Padfoot?"

Harry's eyes widened. He'd never thought of that. Hermione continued. "Dumbledore's been the Chief Warlock for over a decade, and Sirius got thrown into Azkaban without a trial. What if there are others? Harry, what if this is just the way things are? You remember Bertha Jenkins – why did no one mention her disappearance for all those months? People get killed, or thrown in prison, or disappear without a trace, and no one says anything?"

The dawning horror on her face was reflected in Harry's. "My God, Harry, that sort of thing only happens in really bad places like Nazi Germany or the Soviet Union or Cambodia under Khmer Rouge. And this is the country we live in?" Her eyes met Harry's. "I'm scared, Harry, I'm really scared. I don't think I want to stay here anymore."

In that moment, Harry felt a sensation of protectiveness for Hermione, stronger than he'd ever felt since seeing her petrified in Second Year. This time would be different.

His face steeled. "You're right, we can't stay." His mind leapt ahead. "We have to find a place to go. Why don't we talk to Madame Maxine about transferring to Beauxbatons?"

Hermioned pleaded, "But my parents –"

"We'll take them with us. You'll have to tell them everything. If Beauxbaton doesn't work, we could go somewhere else."

"I could ask Krum…."

"I'm not sure if Durmstrang is a good idea," he gently chided. Then he reconsidered. "Though he'd probably know a lot about Europe, and Bulgaria is pretty far away."

Hermione nodded. "My parents always wanted to visit Australia."

"There's another possibility. We could try America as well – I heard there's a magical school in Salem? Heck, we could even hide as Muggles, if this is what the whole Wizarding World is like. But we won't stay here any longer than we have to. We have a month before term ends. But after that, we disappear."

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A/N: I forget the fan-fic author who first drew my attention to the summary execution at the end of "Goblet of Fire," but I admit I was pretty shocked that it hadn't received more attention than it did.

I know a lot of writers make the point that Dumbledore is basically in charge of the British court system, and that he could have gotten Sirius a trial if he really wanted to. Personally, I agree, and this is further evidence in my book that canon!Dumbledore is basically a bad guy.

Furthermore, most fan-fics treat this perversion of justice as part of an elaborate plot by Dumbledore to control Harry's life. Again, I can't say I disagree, but a thought struck me as I wrote this. What if it wasn't part of an elaborate plot? What if there was no ulterior motive, and this is just the way things were? Does that make it better, or worse?

A/N 2: I remembered the author who inspired this one shot. It was from an author's note at the end of "The Well Groomed Mind" by Lady Khali (id:1509740). It's an excellently written fic that I highly recommend.


	3. That's Why It's 'Forbidden'

I don't own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," which is owned by J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

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**That's Why It's 'Forbidden'**

**Harry's heart rose. If they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad.**

**His relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy — it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."**

**At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.**

"**T****he forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night — there's all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard."**

**Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.**

"**That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"**

"Wait, what?"

Harry's appalled cry broke over the group. He turned to Draco, "There really are werewolves?" In the silence they could hear the noise of Hagrid's trudging gait coming towards them out of the dark. He carried a large crossbow, and Fang hung at his heels.

"Abou' time. I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. Filch, I'll take 'em. All right, Harry, Hermione?"

"No I am not all right!" Harry retorted, surprising even himself with his vehemence. "We got in trouble for being out after dark, and we're being punished by getting sent out after dark, into the most dangerous place in the grounds? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

Before Hagrid could respond, Draco added "And why in the name of Morgana do we even need to go into the Forbidden Forest any way. No," he finished with a touch of desperation, "I'm not going in there."

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it.'"

Harry jumped in, "No we haven't! The three of us were helping you stay out of trouble, and Neville was trying to keep us out of trouble." He shifted a bit guiltily. "Even Draco wasn't all wrong." Draco looked at him oddly. "What? You're here because you told a Professor that we were out after curfew. Why should you be punished?"

"Thanks, Potter." Draco turned back to Hagrid. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Harry. I thought we'd be copying lines or something. If my father knew about this, he'd—"

"—tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

_Seriously, what is his problem?_ Harry thought indignantly.

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "Now listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

Leading them to the very edge of the forest, he pointed his lamp down the narrow earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid.

"You can't be serious!" Harry exploded again. "Something out there is killing unicorns, and you think they'll be scared off by an overgrown dog? Even I know that unicorns are insanely strong magical creatures? Hermione, you would know – what sort of thing could kill a unicorn?"

Hermione's voice quivered. "I don't… I mean, I've never heard of a unicorn being killed, it's not in any of the books. Maybe a class five creature might be able to catch one."

Harry turned to her. "Class five?"

"The Ministry Classification of Magical Creatures." She lectured. "Class five creatures include werewolves, dragons, chimera, manticores and acromantula, though there are only rumors that any of them actually live in the Forbidden Forest."

"Filch mentioned werewolves; I wonder if he knows something." Harry turned. "Hagrid, would a werewolf be able to kill a unicorn?"

Hagrid shook his beard. "No, not fast enough. It's not easy ter catch a unicorn."

"Right, so not a werewolf. Hagrid, what other class five creatures are in the Forest?"

The Gameskeeper shifted uneasily. "Aragog wouldn't—"

Draco interrupted, "Aragog?"

"Hey, none o' that! I raised him from an egg, I gave him his mate, he wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Hagrid, where would we find Aragog?" Harry encouraged.

Hagrid blubbered, "He'd be in the colony at the heart of the Forest, but it couldn't be him, he promised."

Draco pressed, "The colony? What colony?"

"Why, the acromantula colony of cour— oh. I shouldn't have said that."

Harry wanted to scream. Hermione did. "You mean to say that there are acromantula in the Forest? Not just one, but an entire colony? And you didn't tell anyone?"

Harry tried to keep his voice even. "Hagrid, you were my first friend, but I have to ask: are you insane? First you keep a giant man-eating spider as a pet, then you foster a whole colony of them in the Forest, next to a school full of children?" Hagrid shifted guiltily. "What is wrong with you?"

Draco gloated, "Just wait till I tell my father about this! I told you when I first met you, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."

Harry briefly felt an insane desire to deck him, but stopped short to reflect. "You know, I just might take you up on that."

The look of betrayal on Hagrid's face tore at his heart, but Harry had to say it. "I'm sorry, Hagrid, you were my first friend, and you've been really nice to me. But now the whole school is in danger. You knew there were giant spiders – giant spiders that like to eat people – and you didn't say anything."

Even Neville joined in, softly saying. "And I'd bet that they're responsible for killing those unicorns." At Hagrid's protest, he raised his voice. "What? What else could it be? What else can catch a unicorn?"

Harry summarized, "And now you want to lead us out into that very Forest with only a dog to protect us? I'm sorry, but are you trying to kill us?"

Hermione went to defend Hagrid, but Harry kept going. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I know he's like a teacher, but listen to me." His face was rapidly paling. "First he hatches a dragon egg in his wooden hut. When we try to help him, we get caught by McGonagall and get sent for detention to the Forbidden Forest. On top of that, we get here and are told to go find and protect a dying unicorn from whatever dark creature is hunting it. And then! Then we learn that Hagrid has been keeping a colony of giant man-eating spiders as his private puppy farm. And that's not to mention whatever Filch seems to know about there being a pack of werewolves in the Forest, and he sounded quite happy to send us out here even though it's the night of the full moon!"

By this time Hermione had worried her lower lip until it bled, Draco's face was entirely drained of blood, and Neville seemed on the verge of fainting. Harry finished in a low, nearly hysterical voice. "So I'll ask it again. Are the teachers trying to kill us, or do they merely not care if we die?"

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A/N: I like Hagrid, but there are more than a few times in the books where it's clear he should never be allowed around children. This is the first of those moments. The second most notable was the time he was being taken away by Minister Fudge, and told Harry and Ron to "follow the _spiders_. That'd lead 'em right." This, of course, led the two children straight into the lair of Aragog, king of the Acromantula, who tried to eat them. Great advice, Hagrid!

So yeah, I like Hagrid, but I can see that Draco might be on to something when he tells Harry about not being too friendly with the "wrong sort." Just because a kid is already a supercilious bigot by the age of eleven doesn't mean he can't have a valid point.


	4. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

I do not own Harry Potter or Hermione Granger. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," which belongs to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Out of Sight, Out of Mind**

"– **are you sure you've thought this through?" Harry persisted.**

**"Let's see," said Hermione, slamming **_**Travels with Trolls**_** onto the discarded pile with a rather fierce look. "I've been packing for days, so we're ready to leave at a moment's notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye's whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron's mum's nose.**

"**I've also modified my parents' memories so that they're convinced they're really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me – or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you.**

**"Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't – well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know that they've got a daughter, you see."**

"Wait, what?"

Hermione's eyes were swimming with tears. Ron put his arm around her, frowning at Harry as though reproaching him for lack of tact.

For once, Harry could not bring himself to care. "What did you just say? Wendell and Monica Wilkins? What did you do? What did you do?" His voice was rising in hysteria. "You erased your parents' lives, you erased your own existence from their minds, you gave them new names and new lives in Australia? Hermione, I cannot begin to tell you how wrong that is?"

She burst again into tears, and Ron turned on him angrily. "Shut up, Harry. Just shut up. Don't you see how hard it was for her?"

Harry repeated, "How hard it was for her? For her? Did you hear what she did to her parents? She gave them new personalities, and put them under a compulsion to move to a different hemisphere! You think she had it rough? How do you think her parents will feel? How do you imagine Lockhart's victims felt? I swear, Memory Charms should be classified with the Unforgiveables. You basically killed your parents and replaced them with different people!"

Hermione protested, her face red and tear-tracked. "No, you don't understand, it's just temporary, I'll reverse it later."

"Unless you die, in which case they'll stay this way forever." Harry finished angrily. "Of course, the fact you only temporary erased your parents' minds makes it all so much better. What is wrong with you? So you can fix it. At this point, Riddle considers even the Killing Curse a mere inconvenience. That doesn't make it all right!"

Harry tried to calm himself. "I don't believe you. You said they already left?"

Hermione sniffled, and even Ron looked conflicted. "Yes, to Australia. They left the same day I got here."

Harry looked at her. He was still appalled, but at least she appeared to be chastened. "Hermione, there's a famous quote by Ben Franklin. 'Those who give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.' You took your parents' lives away from them. You stole their free will! "

"Tell me, do you imagine a Death Eater would be able to find your parents, if they couldn't rely on the address on file at the Ministry? They're purebloods! They wouldn't know the first thing about the Muggle world. So tell them to move, and problem solved. If you're really worried, ask them to move to another country. You didn't have to force them, and you didn't need to erase their minds in order to make it work."

Hermione was looking worse and worse as Harry went on. "Hermione, you weren't there when we confronted Lockhart. You didn't see, as we did, how incredibly powerful and corrupting memory charms can be. Now, there's nothing we can do, so let's pack. Once we're done hunting horcruxes, once Riddle is gone, then I'm going back with you to fix your parents. You're going to fix them, you're going to apologize, and you're going to swear on your magic to never do it again. You understand?"

* * *

**A/N**: Rowling has a tendency to treat various incredibly disruptive elements in her magical universe in a horrifying cavalier manner. Memory Charms are only the first on the list. You'd think that after making them the staple of the villain from the second book, Rowling would be a bit more careful in how she portrays them. But no! By the seventh book, there are Memory Charms flying all over the place.

I suppose this passage also points to the almost total disregard that Hermione (and by extension Rowling) has for the elder Grangers. I mean, seriously, we never even learn their names. They appear briefly at the beginning of "Chamber of Secrets," and the next thing we know they've been obliviated by their daughter and sent to Australia.

Personally, I think the Harry Potter books would have been much more interesting with the additional set of parents involved. For one, Arthur Weasley might have been able to actually live his dream and stay a few nights in the Muggle world. And that's not to mention the benefit of having a responsible pair of adults in Harry Potter's life.

Seriously. I challenge anyone to identify one adult close to Harry who hasn't done something mind-numbingly irresponsible at some point or other in the series.

**A/N 2**: Xavierp (id:2562535) makes a fantastic point in the reviews: "Bearing in mind Hermione was skilled enough at memory charms to erase her existence and 30 to 40 years of life from her parents, where on earth did she learn it and where did she practice it? Are there wizards walking around thinking they're muggles or are there lobotomised Hufflepuffs walking about?"

I'd never even considered that. It might explain why Hufflepuff has a reputation for being "duffers" - they've been cannon fodder for everyone else to practice memory charms! I'm torn between finding this hilarious or simply disturbing.


	5. Better Dead or Disregarded

I don't own Harry Potter or Dean Thomas. The following one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Better Dead or Disregarded**

"**I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."**

**The others laughed.**

"**What about you, Neville?" said Ron.**

"**Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned —but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go."**

"**But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."**

"Wait, what?"

Dean's sputtered cry broke out over the Gryffindor table, interrupting Hermione's huddle with Percy about lessons and Seamus' subtle efforts to strike up a conversation with Lavender Brown.

In the few seconds of silence, Dean struggled with his next words – his prepubescent vocabulary barely enough to express the full degree of his disgust.

"What the… _hell_ is wrong with your family?" At his words Neville flushed in embarrassment. "Your uncle tries to drown you, dangles you out the window, and no one does anything?"

"Sounds like my relatives," Harry muttered beneath his breath.

Unfortunately, his voice was not so soft that it wasn't noticed by Percy. "What does that mean, Harry?"

Harry froze, mortified. He'd forgotten the first rule: you don't talk about what happens in the Dursley house. "Erm…."

Dean was not so outraged that he was oblivious to Harry's discomfort. "What was that Percy? Harry?"

Percy piped up, "Harry said that Neville's family reminded him of his relatives, though I don't know how that could be, Dumbledore said—"

"Dumbledore?" Harry's voice lowered ominously.

Unlike Dean, Percy was oblivious. "Yeah, he told everyone he'd placed you with a safe and loving family, and he's the greatest wizard of the age, so I don't see—"

Dean cut him off. "Shut it." Now everyone's attention was focused on the conversation. The black muggleborn turned, "Harry, it's okay to talk about it now. Neville did, didn't he? You said his family reminds you of your relatives?" He prompted.

"Erm…" Harry flushed in embarrassment, "I don't mean… well, they blamed me for just about everything that went wrong, though I never knew what I'd done, 'cept they'd said I was a freak and didn't deserve to be treated like I was normal, though I suppose they only said that because they knew I had magic, though they never told me anything about that 'till Hagrid came."

Stunned silence ensued, many faces (Percy included) agape. Dean was the first to recover. "Okay… so. Harry, I've only known of magic for a few months, but even I'd heard of you before Hogwarts. You're incredibly famous. Yet you were placed with magic-hating muggle relatives. And Neville was placed with muggle-hating magical relatives. Hey, there's a thought, what about your folks, Nev? What do they say?"

Neville looked like he wanted to slide underneath the table, and flushed an even brighter red at Dean's question. "They… they can't take care of me no more..."

"You mean they abandoned you?"

"No!" The steel in Neville's voice surprised everyone, even himself. "They wouldn't do that, they just… can't take care of me…."

Percy, officious but ultimately kind-hearted, was the one to resolve Dean's confusion. "His parents were tortured to insanity at the end of the last War. They're at St. Mungo's now, the permanent resident ward." At Neville's astonished expression, he clarified. "They're heroes, Neville. We don't bring it up to be polite, but everyone knows who they are and what they did. You should be proud."

Neville's face rose as Dean's fell. "I'm sorry, Neville, that was thoughtless of me. I shouldn't have brought it up. But you shouldn't be treated like that just 'cause your parents are gone. Your folks would never stand for how your Gran treated you. Magical or not, you're their kid. Are all magical families as bad as your relatives? Is it like a requirement – you have to raise magical kids in abusive homes?"

Ron piped up, "Hey! You can't say that about the Longbottoms, they're a Light family, just like ours!"

"Oh, speak for yourself, Ronniekins, you know how Mum is." The Weasley twins spoke. At the expectant silence they explained, "She tries to be good, but she's really controlling, and has a nasty temper if she doesn't get her way. Bill and Charlie left the country after Hogwarts, and hardly ever come around anymore."

Seamus queried, "Bill and Charlie?"

Percy answered, "Our two oldest brothers." He hesitated, "I don't like it, but they're right. Our Mum isn't the easiest person to get along with. Even when our Dad's around, he spends most of his time working in the shed."

Harry was uncomfortable talking about abusive relatives, and tried to change the subject. "Ron, didn't you mention something about your Mum's cousin, the accountant? I asked you on the train if you had any non-magical relatives."

Ron promptly stuck his foot in his mouth again, "Yeah, but I told you, we never talk about him, really."

"Seriously?" Dean seized on that. "Is this how everyone in the wizarding world treat magic-less folk? Better dead or disregarded than acknowledged as family?" He paused in deep thought. "You keep saying that you're both 'Light' families, and how that means you're good. And I heard a lot of people chatter on about 'Dark' families that send their kids to Slytherin and are basically evil. But now I wonder: if this is what the good families are like, just how bad are the bad ones? Maybe the wizarding world isn't such a great place after all."

* * *

**A/N**: Not the cleanest ending, but I ask you, where should it go from here? These are all young kids, freshly Sorted and sitting down for their first meal at Hogwarts, and Neville drops this sort of bombshell on them? "Oh, my uncle tried to kill me several times because he figured either my magic would save me or I'd die, and a dead squib really isn't much of a loss at all."

They've barely tasted the awe and wonder of magic, and suddenly they discover that the Wizarding World has the same sort of mentality towards children as pre-civilized savages, that leave the weakest infants out in the jungle to be eaten by wild animals. They are untrained, have no resources, and are thrust into a barbaric society that will sooner or later kill them.

Seriously, the depravity of the wizarding world isn't a late addition to the series. This is the seventh chapter of the first book. Already we've witnessed a kidnapping (first chapter: Hagrid takes Harry from his legal guardian, Sirius), child abuse (second, third and fourth chapters: the Dursleys), casual bigotry (fifth and sixth chapters: Draco), and now attempted murder.

Part of me wonders how Harry Potter was ever accepted as a story for children.


	6. Catch and Release

I don't own Hermione Granger or Antonin Dolohov. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Catch and Release**

**The severed ropes fell away. Ron got to his feet, shaking his arms to regain feeling in them. Harry picked up his wand and climbed over all the debris to where the large blond Death Eater was sprawled across the bench.**

"**I should've recognized him, he was there the night Dumbledore died," he said. He turned over the darker Death Eater with his foot; the man's eyes moved rapidly between Harry, Ron and Hermione.**

"**That's Dolohov," said Ron. "I recognize him from the old wanted posters. I think the big one's Thorfinn Rowle."**

"**Never mind what they're called!" said Hermione a little hysterically.**

"**How did they find us? What are we going to do?"**

**Somehow her panic seemed to clear Harry's head. **"**Lock the door," he told her, "and Ron, turn out the lights."**

**He looked down at the paralyzed Dolohov, thinking fast as the lock clicked and Ron used the Deluminator to plunge the café into darkness. Harry could hear the men who had jeered at Hermione earlier, yelling at another girl in the distance.**

"**What are we going to do with them?" Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, "Kill them? They'd kill us. They had a good go just now."**

**Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head.**

"**We just need to wipe their memories," said Harry. "It's better like that, it'll throw them off the scent. If we killed them it'd be obvious we were here."**

"**You're the boss," said Ron, sounding profoundly relieved. "But I've never done a Memory Charm."**

"**Nor have I," said Hermione, "but I know the theory."**

**She took a deep, calming breath, then pointed her wand at Dolohov's forehead and said,**

"Wait, what?"

"What is it, Hermione?" "What's wrong?" Both boys were immediately concerned.

_Why did I say that? I don't have to lie to them – I already told them I'd used a Memory Charm before on my parents. Why couldn't I just say so?_ Hermione thought numbly. _More than that…_

"It just struck me—why are we using Memory Charms again? I mean, this is a Death Eater! This is the third time he's tried to kill us – here, at Hogwarts, and at the Department of Mysteries! Why are we treating him with kid gloves?"

Ron broke in, "Didn't you hear what we said? They'd know we were here! They'd try to kill us!"

"Ron, they already know we're here! That's why they sent two people after us! What's going to happen when they get back with a giant hole in their memory?"

Ron was about to respond when Harry cut him off, "Yeah, but they wouldn't know it was us. Besides, we can't just go killing people Hermione! It's not right!"

"Not right? Let me tell you what's not right. Dolohov is a Death Eater! He's a trained assassin, bound in service to a mass-murdering terrorist! He's killed before, and he'll kill again unless he's stopped."

"But the Ministry—"

"The Ministry just fell! Didn't you hear Kingsley? They're out of this fight! They won't arrest a Death Eater, and besides, how long do you think Azkaban would hold him? The Ministry is on their side, now!"

Harry looked crestfallen. Ron looked indignant.

"Harry," her voice was low but insistent. "We're at war, people die. If the Ministry were around, we might be able to lock him up in Azkaban. But we can't, and if we don't deal with him ourselves we will be responsible for every murder he commits once he walks out of here."

Ron broke in, "But killing people is wrong! Dumbledore said—"

"Dumbledore is dead!" Hermione's temper exploded. "Dumbledore died because he let a Death Eater walk free! He trusted Snape, and it killed him!"

Ron and Harry were struck dumb by the rare outburst.

After some moments of silence Hermione continued in a softer voice. "You don't play 'catch and release' with terrorists. That's not the way it works. That's three times we've met Dolohov. If we let him go, we might not be so lucky next time. And what of all the people he'll kill or torture in the meantime?"

Harry slowly nodded, "You're right. I wasn't thinking. We have to… we're at war, we have to act like it."

Ron whined, "But we can't kill them! They'd kill us if we did."

"Ron, shut up!" Harry's eyebrows shot up at Hermione's dismissal of their friend. "You think they'll play by our rules? They're already trying to kill us! That won't change. If we get rid of Death Eaters, it'll only mean there are fewer of them out them trying to get us."

Ron effectively neutered, Hermione's gaze returned to Harry. "We aren't in school anymore. There are no house points. Death Eaters aren't sent to detention. This is the first time it's sunk in, but we're at war. We have to act like it."

Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head. "You're right. We have to stop them, and if this is the only way how…" he trailed off. When his eyes opened again they were back-lit by a fire that Hermione had not seen in many years.

His wand lifted towards their captive's neck.

"Harry you can't!" Ron sputtered.

"I must."

Dolohov's eyes widened.

"_Diffindo._"

* * *

A/N: The inspiration for this one is pretty clear: what the hell is up with the decision to play 'catch-and-release' with Dolohov? They aren't fishing, and Dolohov isn't below the legal limit. This is war, and he's a trained killer. I'm not a violent person by nature, but the decision seems pretty clear to me. Yet for Rowling, it somehow isn't.

Such choices make little sense unless you realize that Rowling considers any form of killing to be the ultimate moral evil. Her protagonists are never allowed to cast or even consider casting lethal curses. The sole exception is when Harry uses _Sectumsempra_ on Draco, and that's only because he didn't know what it would do (and is appropriately horrified by its effect).

Even in the final duel, Harry doesn't even try to kill Voldemort – he casts a disarming curse, from second year no less! No, the Dark Lord is defeated by friendly fire, struck down by his own rebounded Killing Curse. Harry's contribution was, frankly, to stand there and be the mirror.

Of course, Rowling's interdiction only applies to lethal curses. She throws around Memory Charms like candy, and she even lets Harry use the Cruciatus Curse. Seriously – he won't kill anyone, but has no problem inflicting torture when Amycus Carrow spits in McGonagall's face.

Seriously, Rowling's priorities are all kinds of messed up. She won't let her good guys kill, but doesn't have a problem with them using mind-control or torture. Someone needs to have a conversation with her about moral philosophy and the just war doctrine.

Final note: if you must use a Memory Charm, why erase only a few minutes? Why not lobotomize Dolohov, erasing everything? Hermione has already shown herself capable of 'cut-and-pasting' an entirely new identity onto a person. If she could do it for her parents, why not do so for a (far more deserving) enemy combatant? Make him a muggle, or better yet, an ally! If you're not bothered by the ethics of mind control and memory erasure, why limit yourself?


	7. Safer With The Convict

I don't own Hermione Granger or Severus Snape. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Safer With The Convict**

"**If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," said Black, who was still watching Scabbers's every desperate move. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."**

"**All right... but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, I only know how it began..."**

**Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing.**

**"No one there..."**

**"This place is haunted!" said Ron.**

**"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." **

Hermione Granger had preened when Lupin had called her (not ten minutes before) the cleverest witch of her age he'd ever me. There was a reason Hermione Granger was as clever as she was, and that was this: she did not suffer questions to go unanswered.

So as she stood, wand in hand, listening to the werewolf and the convict weave the story of happier days, of childhood friendships and adult betrayals, a stray thought niggled at the back of her mind.

The Shrieking Shack was not haunted. The Shack had never been haunted. Even if it were haunted, ghosts can't move things. So what had made that noise?

Lupin had just finished explaining why Snape seemed to hate him—something about an infuriatingly dangerous and juvenile prank played by Black—when suddenly, all thought ceased.

**Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin.**

**Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock.**

**"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you..."**

**Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."**

**"Severus—" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.**

**"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—"**

**"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Sirius is not here to kill Harry—"**

_Wait, what?_

And just like that, as suddenly as all thought had ceased, it picked up again, at nearly double the pace.

Lupin said Snape hadn't heard everything. Hadn't he?

Snape was monologuing, his eyes gleaming fanatically. "Two more for Azkaban tonight. I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this… he was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf." He spat in contempt.

_Tame… tame…_. Suddenly Hermione made the connection. Lupin hadn't taken his potion for the night! _But that means_….

Hermione's trust in authority had taken a severe pounding that evening. First Lupin appears in the nick of time, only to greet the murderous convict as an old friend. Now this! Snape knew Lupin hadn't taken his potion. He'd had even brought it to Lupin's office for him. But when he saw Lupin head towards the Shrieking Shack, he had taken off after him… and left the potion behind.

_Oh my God._

Lupin was oblivious to Hermione's realization. "You fool," he said softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG! Hermione started. Cords burst out of Snape's wand and wrapped around Lupin, binding and tripping and gagging him. With a roar Black moved towards Snape, stopped short by the Potion Master's wand, pointed straight between his eyes. "Give me a reason," Snape whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Black stood stock still, his face mirroring the hatred etched in Snape's. Behind him, Harry stood paralyzed, uncertain of who to believe. Ron was befuddled, his attention torn between listening to the conversation and subduing his restless rat.

Hermione stepped towards Snape, breathing shallowly. "P- P- Professor?" She stuttered. "It wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w- would it?"

"Miss Granger," Snape spat, "you are already facing suspension from this school. You, Potter, and Weasley are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life hold your tongue!"

Hermione took a deeper breath, "But if – if there was a mistake –"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, perilously close to Black's face.

Hermione fell silent, her inner voice gibbering in panic. _Oh God. He's going to kill someone. He's really going to do it. Oh God._

Snape took a shuddering breath. "Vengeance is very sweet. How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…."

Black snarled, "The joke's on you again, Severus. As long as this boy" nodding at Ron "brings his rat up to the castle, I'll come quietly."

_Scabbers… Peter Pettigrew… yes, Snape must know—_

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay.. I—"

Color fled Black's face. His pallor was mirrored by Hermione. _He knows, he knows, he's going to kill him anyway._

"You- You've got to hear me out" Black croaked. "The rat—look at the rat—"

Hermione could see the glint in Snape's eyes, and knew he was truly beyond reason. "Come on, all of you," he said, clicking his fingers. Like that, the cords binding Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a Kiss for him too—"

In that instant Harry moved, blocking Snape from leaving the room. Hermione was still rooted to the floor, trembling in fear. _No Harry! He's trying to kill Lupin and Black, he wants to kill, he'll kill you if you get in his way, please Harry, don't stand there!_

Snape snarled, "Get out of the way, Potter. You're in enough trouble already. If I hadn't been here to save your skin—"

At that Hermione wanted to cry with laughter. Snape was mad, delusional. Saving Harry's skin? This wasn't about protecting Harry, this was about a schoolboy's revenge.

Before Snape could finish or Hermione react, Harry jumped in, "Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year. I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

Hermione was torn, unsure whether to cheer or cry. She was so proud for Harry to be thinking rationally at a time like this, but knew that logic would have no hold on Snape's broken mind.

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," Snape hissed. "Out of the way, Potter!"

"You're pathetic!" Harry yelled. _Oh Harry, no…. _"Just because they made a fool out of you at school you won't even listen—!

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, even more enraged. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You should have died like your father, too arrogant to believe—"

In that instant Harry's wand moved, and Hermione mirrored him by instinct. "Expelliarmus!" He cried, followed shortly by Hermione, though in her terror she overpowered the spell. Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, sliding down to the floor as blood trickled to his feet. His wand flew to the opposite wall.

"You shouldn't have done that," Black said in the silence, looking at Harry. "You should have left him—"

Hermione's wand swung towards him. "Shut up! I don't know if you're innocent or not, but you do not talk to Harry that way! Snape was going to kill you—he was going to kill both of you—and Harry saved your lives!"

She looked at Harry, his eyes downcast, his feet shuffling with uncertainty. In the other corner Ron looked torn between utter piss-your-pants fear and jubiliation. He settled on both. "You attacked a teacher… you knocked out Snape… bloody brilliant… we're in so much trouble…."

She could not bring herself to care. She knelt by the trussed-up Lupin and untied the ropes binding him. The werewolf straightened, rubbing the cuts on his arms where the tightened ropes had bitten into his flesh. "Thank you Miss Granger."

"You were wrong, you know." She whispered, hardly dared to look at him.

"Miss Granger?"

"You were wrong. He had heard everything. Snape knew Sirius Black wasn't trying to kill Harry."

Lupin breathed, "That is a very serious accusation, Miss Granger. I hope—"

"He was here the whole time. You remember when the door creaked, a few minutes after you came up here? You stopped to check and Ron said the Shack was haunted. Snape was under the Invisiblity Cloak the whole time."

Lupin paled, "But that means—"

"He heard what you said about Scabbers. He knows your friends were animaguses, and he knows that includes Peter Pettigrew."

"And he wanted to throw me to a dementor before I could get the rat to the castle!" Sirius snarled. "I'll kill him! That sniveling loathsome bastard!" Even Lupin nodded, his features decidedly wolfish.

"That's not the worst of it." Hermione cut in, and now all of them were staring at her in horror. How could there be worse?

"You heard what he said, there at the end. He was wondering if he could get you Kissed at well," she said, looking at Professor Lupin. "But remember the reason he came here in the first place. He knew you hadn't taken your potion this evening, and was bringing it to you in your office. But when he saw the Map and followed you here, he left it behind."

Harry was still looking at you in puzzlement, though Lupin and Black were beginning to tremble in understanding. "Snape knew you would soon lose control and transform. He knew that a rogue werewolf on the Hogwarts grounds would be a danger to everyone. And," she breathed, "he knew that a Ministry-sanctioned executioner of dark creatures had been called in less than an hour ago, and is even now waiting in the castle."

"So when he saw me leave the safety of my office—" Lupin breathed.

Black finished, "—he left the potion behind. Oh my god, Moony. He set you up to be killed."

At this Harry finally looked up, his eyes blazing with purpose. "We can't let that happen. We need to get back to the castle. Mr. Black, sir, I'm not saying I believe you, but even if you're out to kill me, I'm still safer around you than I am around _him_!" He kicked the unconscious Snape in the shin for good measure.

He paused. "Professor Lupin, we'll need to lock you in here. I'm sorry, sir; I doubt we'd be able to get you the potion before you transform. Can you conjure stretchers for Ron and Snape, so we can carry them back with us?"

"Of course." As he turned to Ron, Hermione cast a quick _Incarcerous_ on the still unconscious Snape.

Harry looked to Sirius. "Mr. Black. You need to take your animagus form when we go. I'm still not sure I trust you, but we need to work together. All of us will have wands trained on you if you try to escape."

For a man facing a 'Kiss on Sight' order, Sirius Black was peculiarly calm. "Of course, Harry. I'll be with you."

Harry stood for a second in thought, then turned, wand blazing, "_Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy_." He peppered the area around Ron's hands. The first hit Ron, but before Scabbers could move the rat was tagged by the second spell and succumbed to unconsciousness. "We can't let Scabbers escape, and while I trust Ron, I don't trust his grip. Can you carry him?" He looked to Sirius, who gave a very canine grin. Leaping forward and shifting to Padfoot form, he clenched the unconscious rat between his teeth. Scabbers now secure, Harry cast again, "_Ennervate_. Sorry Ron, we had to make sure Scabbers couldn't escape." Ron paled at seeing his pet trapped in the jaws of the Grim.

He turned to Hermione, who had been a passive observer for most of this, and was very grateful she hadn't been called upon (she was still recovering from her earlier panic). "Hermione?" He called, then cautiously lifted a hand to rest on her shoulder, "Hermione? We need to go."

She turned and in one swift motion buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Harry!" She practically whimpered.

Harry was unused to the close comfort but finding it a very welcome sensation. Lupin exchanged a knowing glance with the Grim, though he idly noted it was a rather odd expression to find on a dog. Harry shushed her comfortingly, ""Shh, it'll be all right. We're fine, he won't hurt us."

She rubbed her eyes and cheeks to dry off the tears. "I know, it's just, he's a teacher, he shouldn't be—"

"But he is, and he did." Harry finished. He knew Hermione placed too much trust in authority, and that trust had taken a severe beating this evening. But now was not the time. "Hermione, are you ready to leave? We'll need to lift the stretchers to bring Ron and Snape back with us." He paused, then snarled, "Though I'd feel better leaving him behind for Professor Lupin to take care of."

The Professor in question smiled, "The wolf in me would like that as well, but we must be the better men, Harry."

Hermione sighed. "We're children—we shouldn't have to be the bigger person than a teacher and an adult, but there it is. Yes, Harry. I'm ready to leave."

Since they were carrying stretchers not people, they could cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ rather than _Mobilicorpus_. Soon the five of them – two students, two invalids, and a dog – were proceeding back down the tunnel to the Whomping Willow, back to the grounds of the Hogwarts School.

Hermione smiled – she could almost feel content. _It was messy for a while, but you know what? Tonight I made a difference. What happens tonight, it will change our lives_.

* * *

**A/N**: It didn't.

At least, that's what the cynical part of me wants to say. Dumbledore is far too invested in Snape to fire him, and I doubt any legal charges would stick. So Snape would stay as Professor, would spread the word about Lupin's lycanthropy, and would continue to make Harry's life a living hell. As for Peter Pettigrew, let's just say the Ministry is defined by incompetence and lax security, and leave it at that. So no, I doubt even this improved outcome from the Shrieking Shack would have made much of a difference. And that's assuming Dumbledore isn't a conniving manipulative SOB primarily interested at this point in keeping Harry away from his godfather. My reading of canon suggests otherwise.

I forget the author who inspired this by drawing my attention to that moment in PoA where the door swings open for no apparent reason, but whoever you are, thank you! Seriously, Rowling may construct awful plots, but her writing is actually very good, so she wouldn't include random stuff like that for no reason. So, why did the door swing open? Because Snape is listening, and when we see him pull off that Invisiblity Cloak, we're meant to realize he'd been there from the beginning.

She even references it later, when Harry and Hermione are using the time turner and have hunkered down to watch the passageway to the Shrieking Shack: "Barely two minutes later, the castle doors flew open yet again and Snape came charging out of them, running toward the Willow." Again, that is two minutes after Remus had entered the passageway. Clearly, Snape didn't miss much of their conversation.

All this brings me to my final point: how in the name of all that is holy can ANYONE think of Snape as a good or even remotely redeemable character after his performance at the end of this book. And to clarify, yes, all of Snape's dialogue above is straight from the book.

Let's recap, shall we? Snape knows or strongly suspects Black's innocence—and he just doesn't care. He intends to see Black Kissed without a trial, and hopes to hoist Lupin by the same petard if he can manage it. I don't know of any other fan author who have made this point (I may have stumbled on originality here) but it seems to me like he's looking for any way to get Lupin killed, whether by dementor or Ministry executioner. Finally, he might have been indisposed by the concussion, but upon his recovery he somehow convinces the Minister that his role in capturing Black was worth an Order of Merlin. "Second Class, I'd say. First Class if I can wangle it!"

On top of that, he invents a story of mental instability to get Potter's testimony summarily dismissed, and belittles him and his friends as glory seeking fools who are treated far too leniently by the Headmaster.

Huh. That sounds familiar. Oh right, that's how Fudge and the entire wizarding world started treated Harry in his Fifth Year. So, looks like Snape was responsible for setting the pattern of that little slander.

So what should we conclude? Well, these are not the acts of a repentant man. They are the acts of a bully, assassin, terrorist, thug. Whatever his deeds in later books, Snape is at this point in the series an unequivocal and unabashed enemy of Harry Potter.

A/N 2: This is one of four prospective one-shots I'm planning out of the passages referenced here. See if you can guess the others. (And yeah, four 'wait what?' moments in as many chapters? The conclusion of "Prisoner of Azkaban" is all kinds of messed up.)


	8. Invasive Species

I don't own either Cornelius Fudge or John Major. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Invasive Species**

**"And as if all that wasn't enough," said Fudge, barely listening to the Prime Minister, "we've got Dementors swarming all over the place, attacking people left, right, and center…"**

**Once upon a happier time this sentence would have been unintelligible to the Prime Minister, but he was wiser now. "I thought Dementors guard the prisoners in Azkaban," he said cautiously.**

**"They did," said Fudge wearily. "But not anymore. They've deserted the prison and joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I won't pretend that wasn't a blow."**

**"But," said the Prime Minister, with a sense of dawning horror, "didn't you tell me they're the creatures that drain hope and happiness out of people?"**

**"That's right. And they're breeding. That's what's causing all this mist."**

**The Prime Minister sank, weak-kneed, into the nearest chair. The idea of invisible creatures swooping through the towns and countryside …**

"Wait, what?!" He suddenly made a connection and shot out of his chair. "You say they're breeding? There's a group of invisible demon-thingys that first make people miserable and then kill them, and you lost control of them? And now they're breeding? Tell me you have a way to cull the population."

Fudge shuffled his feet. "Unfortunately not. The only known way to defeat a dementor is with a Patronus charm, and that only drives them away, it doesn't kill them."

The Prime Minister was torn. Part of him wanted to rage at the imbecile in front of him. Part of him wanted to curl up in a fetal position in the corner. And part of him wanted to laugh maniacally at the sheer insanity of it all.

"You mean to tell me these demon-thingys are unkillable? You lost control of a group of invisible, unkillable soul-sucking fiends who have no natural predators and who are now actively breeding? Just how incompetent are you?"

"Now see here—!"

"No, you see here! Britain is about to be overrun by demons, and you think this, this You-Know-Who is a problem? Are you mad?" The Prime Minister took a deep breath and centered himself. "Okay, so we know killing them isn't an option. Have you considered containment? You had control of them before; can't you round them up and isolate them as you did before?"

Fudge's eyes shifted back and forth. "Er… ah… that is, well, the Patronus charm is a very taxing spell, and very few wizards are capable of casting it."

"So you're just as helpless as we are. Wonderful." The Prime Minister commented dryly.

Fudge sputtered indignantly. "Of course we aren't helpless! Every team of aurors we dispatch has at least one member capable of casting a Patronus. Our researchers in the Spirits Division are even now working on ways to bring their population back under our control. You may be helpless, but we have magic. It's offensive you would even think to compare the two."

The Prime Minister sat back in his chair. Okay. So the Minister for Magic is incompetent and bigoted. He ground out evenly, "So. You're working on ways to defend your people. May I ask how you plan on protecting the rest of us?"

Fudge straightened, "Well, I'm sorry but it simply isn't possible." He didn't sound terribly sorry at all. "Our resources are already taxed, and we simply haven't the time." He gave a condescending smile. "It's no great loss, you know. Only muggles, after all."

The Prime Minister's mind went blank.

The silence was broken by the portrait on the wall. "To the Prime Minister of the Muggles. Requesting a meeting. Urgent. Kindly respond immediately. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic."

Not comprehending, he turned to wizard. "But you said…"

Fudge chuckled ruefully. "My dear Prime Minister, you can't honestly think I'm still Minister of Magic after all this? I was sacked three days ago! Everyone's been screaming for my resignation for a fortnight – I've never known them to be so united." He concluded with a brave attempt at a smile.

It was all the Prime Minister could do to restrain his smug grin. At least someone got what was coming to them. He turned to the portrait, "Yes, fine, send him through."

The conversation with the leonine Scrimgeour was largely unexceptional. The new Minister of Magic seemed far less offensive than the old. Yet the Prime Minister still held himself apart, not trusting in appearances. After all, hadn't Fudge been retained as an advisor? Why would they even consider keeping him in any capacity when he had proven so disastrously incompetent?

The revelation that his new secretary was an undercover wizard was disturbing , as was the fact that his Junior Minister's mind had been adddled by a wayward Imperius curse. Of course the bad guys wouldn't just have legions of hellspawn fighting beside them. Of course they'd also be able to use mind control as well. No wonder everything was going to hell in a handbasket.

At last the wizards retired, departing through the bright green flame, and the Prime Minister sunk once more into his chair, deep in thought. A few minutes later, he pressed the intercom.

"Gloria, please get me in touch with Washington. I need to speak with the President, and it's urgent." He paused. "See if you can't reach Ambassador MacGlashan while you're at it."

The intercom buzzed. "Maureen MacGlashan, the envoy to the Vatican?"

"That's right. Also, send word to the Queen. I'll need an hour of her time later today."

"Right away, sir."

The Prime Minister turned towards his desk and started taking notes of all he had learned. If magic existed, it wouldn't be limited to Britain. And if British wizards couldn't do their job, maybe other magicals from around the world could.

Ten minutes later the intercom buzzed. "Mr. Major, please hold for the President of the United States."

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you all for the reviews and story ideas, especially to Jimm (id:1123295) whose review inspired this one. Again, there is so much in the stories that I missed the first half-dozen times around. We already know that dementors can't be killed, only driven off. But here we learn that they can and have been reproducing.

It's like the rabbit problem in Australia. A species with no natural predators makes for a baby boom that will devastate the native population. It's just in this case, the native population happens to be people, and the invasive species happens to be soul-sucking creatures from the mouth of hell.

As for the Vatican… well, if you're fighting demons, who better to call on than an exorcist?

I always felt like the Prime Minister's reactions just seemed off. Even if he was in disbelief the first time around, couldn't he just install security cameras to confirm if it was real for next time? And with that proof, couldn't he have told others in his government, or approach his fellow heads of state for help? ("Sorry to bother you, Mr. President, I was hoping you could help me with a local demon infestation.") Rather than having him sink meekly into his chair while Fudge dumped the end of the world on his head, I'd have loved to see him go to a war footing.

Of course this would have dramatically altered the direction of the series, but it's still a fascinating prospect to consider.


	9. Where Has Everyone Gone?

I do not own Harry Potter or Severus Snape. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix," which belongs to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Where Has Everyone Gone?**

**Twilight fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were traveling. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around his thestral's neck as he willed it to go even faster. How much time had elapsed since he had seen Sirius lying on the Department of Mysteries floor? How much longer would Sirius be able to resist Voldemort?**

In that moment Harry was struck dumb by a thought. Why had they decided to take thestrals? So the fireplaces in Hogwarts were monitored. Surely they could have just borrowed a Floo from one of the stores or houses in Hogsmeade. No matter how fast a thestral could fly, it certainly couldn't compete with near-instantaneous travel.

No matter now. It was too late to turn back, and they couldn't stop midway because they didn't even know where they were, let alone if there were any wizarding households in the area. So he let his mind slip back to his purpose: getting to London as fast as his thestral could manage.

He had lost all track of time, and all feelings in his legs, by the time he felt the thestral begin to descend. He braced himself for the landing, but the shadow horse touched the ground without so much as a jolt. Ron was not so lucky, tumbling to the ground, and Hermione, Ginny and Neville dismounted with shaking limbs. Luna, of course, was her usual carefree self.

**"Where do we go from here, then?" she asked Harry in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.**

**"Over here," he said**, leading the way to the battered telephone box. They crammed into the space, then had to wait as Harry haggled with the cool female voice of the Visitor's Entrance. Finally they received their badges and could begin their decent.

**The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals were sliding out of sight; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.**

**A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. Harry bent his knees and held his wand as ready as he could in such cramped conditions as he peered through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for them in the Atrium, but it seemed to be completely empty.**

"Wait, what?"

Ginny was the first to answer, vainly turning in place. "What is it, Harry? What do you see?"

Harry took a few seconds to respond, "Nothing. I see nothing."

Ron blustered, "Well, what's that supposed to mean? Why'd you say something if you saw nothing?"

Harry tried again, "No, think about it. This is the Ministry Atrium, you're not supposed to see nothing. Look – no Ministry clerks working late, no security guards, no maintenance staff…"

Hermione cut in, "No one from the Order either. You're right, Harry, this feels wrong."

The six students exited the lift and stood together, awkwardly huddled, shivering in the odd silence of the Atrium.

Harry was the one to break the silence, "You know, I had a thought while we were flying – why didn't we just go to Hogsmeade and take a Floo from there? I'm pretty sure Diagon Alley isn't far from here – we could have gone to the Leaky Cauldron and walked, and still gotten here hours earlier."

"What's your point Harry?" Hermione's brow furrowed. "You're right, we should have thought of that. But what makes you say it now?"

"My point is, if we could have gotten here nearly instantaneously, why didn't everyone else? You can't tell me the Order decided to fly by thestral as well. They should have been here hours ago, or at least had someone waiting for us."

Neville caught on, "If they aren't here by now, it means they either got here earlier and the fight is already over—"

"—or they aren't coming here at all." Harry finished grimly.

"Oh that greasy git," Ginny muttered angrily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione started up at her.

"It means, Hermione, that Snape had several hours to contact the other members of the Order, and clearly didn't."

Hermione gaped. "But…"

Harry cut her off, "No buts, Hermione. We warned Snape that Sirius had been taken to the Ministry, and when we left he would have known that's where we were headed. The fact that no one is here, hours later, means he didn't tell anyone and doesn't have plans to."

Luna piped up, "Maybe the wrackspurts got to him."

There was silence for a few seconds. "What?"

"Wrackspurts. They infest your ears and make your brains go fuzzy."

Neville chuckled. "As good an explanation as any."

Ron questioned, "Remind me why we think Snape is on our side again?"

Hermione promptly started on him, "Honestly Ron, he's a teacher! Dumbledore trusts him, and so should we!"

Before Ron could reply, Luna breezily added, "Maybe the wrackspurts got to you too."

Ginny tacked on, "Luna's right, Hermione. Haven't you been listening? If Snape were on our side, he'd have told the Order at some point in the last hour and they'd have met us here when we arrived. They didn't, so he obviously hasn't told them."

Neville faintly added, "But that means—"

Harry grimly nodded, "They know we're coming. That must be why I didn't feel Voldemort during the trip. Snape must've told him we were coming, so he's waiting for us to arrive before he makes the first move."

Even Luna looked a bit queasy at that thought.

"So, the Order isn't coming, the Ministry looks abandoned, and the Death Eaters have probably set a trap for us. As we speak, my godfather is being tortured somewhere in the building, and we're on our own to rescue him. If any of you want to leave now, I wouldn't blame you."

It was Neville who stepped up, his eyes bearing silent witness to the immense fear he must be feeling, but his features set in a determined mien. "We're with you Harry. We know it's a trap, but we're springing it anyway."

Harry felt the slightest bit of reassurance from Neville's hand resting on his shoulder. "Thanks Neville. Anyone else?"

They all stepped up, courage overpowering the fear evident on their faces.

"Thank you, all of you. This will get ugly, so remember your training and keep your heads about you." Harry took a deep breath. "Now, I saw the door to the Department of Mysteries down by the corridor near Courtroom 10, after my trial last year. Head there first?"

* * *

**A/N**: Even if thestrals could fly at 200 kilometers per hour, it would have still taken Harry and his friends nearly four hours to fly from Scotland to London. This raises the question of why anyone would fly that distance, when Floo and apparition are basically instantaneous.

A more disturbing question, however, is where was everyone else when the 'Ministry Six' arrived? Surely it's more than a little odd for the Ministry Atrium to be so completely barren. And the fact that the Order wasn't waiting for them, tells you something sinister about Snape. Now, perhaps he had been told by Lord Voldemort to keep the Order away, and bringing them in would have compromised his cover. Or perhaps he was just felt like this was a chance to revenge himself on Sirius, his long-time nemesis. Or perhaps Snape did tell someone after all: perhaps he told Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was the one to keep the rest of the Order out of the Ministry until fighting had already broken out.

It does seem rather coincidental that the Order would suddenly apparate during a lull in the fighting, just in time to turn the tide of the battle. Likewise, I find it fairly suspicious that Fudge and the rest of the Ministry staff returned only after the fighting had moved to the Atrium. The whole sequence of events is terribly fishy – I just wish one of the characters had pointed it out. Are there other fics that do so? None come to mind

I imagine the the following Battle of the Ministry would have proceeded in largely the same way, though with subtle differences. Aware that they were walking into a trap, the 'Ministry Six' might have started the skirmish from a better position. Likewise, the fact that they felt they could not rely on reinforcements from the Order might have made them more willing to throw around actual battle magic, rather than the Stunners and Disarming Charms they relied on.

In other words, it'd be a more brutal, more realistic, and frankly more readable battle than Rowling gave us.

And when the Order finally did show up, I don't doubt that Harry and the others would be majorly pissed. It might even be enough of a change, so that when he was later did rage and rebel against Dumbledore, he might have actually acted on it and become more independent in his approach to the war. Thus, this could easily serve as the back-story for all those fifth-year independent!Harry fics we know and love.

**A/N 2:** I recently stumbled across the following snippet, where Snape is defending himself to Bellatrix Lestrange: "The Dark Lord is satisfied with the information I have passed him on the Order. It led, as perhaps you have guessed, to the recent capture and murder of Emmeline Vance, and it certainly helped dispose of Sirius Black, though I give you full credit for finishing him off" (Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 2). This seems to indicate that Voldemort credits Snape for ensuring that his trap at the Ministry worked as well as it did. Make of that what you will.


	10. Fellowship Broken

I don't own Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley. This one-shot contains content from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,' which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Fellowship Broken**

**"One thing I would like to know, though," she said, fixing her eyes on a spot a foot over Ron's head. "How exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."**

**Ron glared at her, then pulled a small silver object from his jeans pocket. "This."**

**She had to look at Ron to see what he was showing them. "The Deluminator?" she asked, so surprised she forgot to look cold and fierce.**

**"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off," said Ron. "I don't know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I've been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard ... I heard you." He was looking at Hermione.**

**"You heard me on the radio?" she asked incredulously.**

**"No, I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice," he held up the Deluminator again, "came out of this."**

_Wait, what?_

Hermione shrugged off her increasing discomfort. "And what exactly did I say?" she plied him.

"My name. Ron. And you said… something about a wand..."

Harry muffled a snort at the perceived innuendo. Then he recalled that the first time Ron's name had been mentioned was after Harry's wand had been broken. He saw that Hermione had remembered the same incident, though her face had not yet reverted back from its fiery shade of red.

Oblivious to the byplay Ron went on. "So I took it out" – glancing at the Deluminator – "and it didn't seem different or anything, but I was sure I'd heard you. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside the window." He raised an empty hand and pointed in front of him, as if he were in a trance. "It was a ball of light, kind of pulsing, and bluish, like that light you get around a Portkey, you know?"

"Yeah," said Harry automatically.

"I knew this was it," said Ron. "I grabbed my stuff and packed it, then I put on my rucksack and went out into the garden. The little ball of light was hovering there, waiting for me, and when I came out it bobbed along a bit and I followed it behind the shed and then it ... well, it went inside me."

"Sorry?" said Hermione, sure she had not heard correctly.

"It sort of floated toward me," said Ron, tracking the memory with his finger, "right to my chest, and then - it just went straight through. It was here," he touched a point close to his heart, "I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me, I knew what I was supposed to do. I knew it would take me where I needed to go. So I Disapparated and came out on the side of a hill. There was snow everywhere..."

"We were there," said Harry excitedly, causing Hermione to pale. "We spent two nights there. We thought we heard someone moving around in the dark and calling out."

"Yeah, well, that would've been me," said Ron. "Your protective spells—"

"Wait, wait, hold up, just a second, don't say a word." Hermione cut them off.

The forest around them seemed all the more eerie as the seconds ticked off.

Finally she spoke, before the boys' impatience could grow too great. "Harry, you remember what Dumbledore left us in his Will?"

Harry looked perplexed at the question. "Of course I do. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just thinking. The book I got – it wasn't much help, but it did give us the clues we needed to learn about the Deathly Hallows. And we don't know what to do with the snitch he gave you, but considering it's inscribed "I open at the close" I imagine it'll come in handy later. Now, answer this: what did he leave for Ron?"

Harry still had no idea where she was going with this, but answered all the same. "The Deluminator, of course."

"The Deluminator. Now tell me: what does it do?"

"You know… it puts out lights. Though it did help Ron find us again, so I wonder—"

"Precisely, it helped Ron find us again. And how did it do that?" After a moment's pause she turned to Ron. "We'll take that, thank you very much. _Accio!_"

Ron started as the trinket flew out of his hands. "Wha—?"

"Hermione!" Harry looked to chide her.

"Harry, don't start. You know, before I thought it was just a rather useless toy, but now I find it unbelievably creepy. Harry, think about it! It broadcasted what we were saying in the privacy of our tent, surrounded by protective spells. It gave Ron the apparition coordinates to our location, and let him follow us from place to place. Don't you get it? The only way it could have done that is if Dumbledore tagged one of us, probably you, with eavesdropping and tracking charms and tied those to the enchantments on the device."

Harry was beginning to follow along. "But… how did he manage that before he did? He didn't have any time at all before Draco got there."

Hermione responded softly, "I don't think this is something he did just before he died, Harry. I imagine those enchantments have been active almost as long as he's had the device."

Harry paled, "But that means—"

"That he could have tracked you, everywhere you went, for as long as you can remember? That, if he wanted to, he could listen in to every word you've ever spoken, every conversation you've ever had?"

Harry suddenly felt faint. "But he… but he couldn't have, he…"

"He did, Harry. We can't know how long it's been modified like this, but we know he did it well before his death." Now her voice grew stronger. "And there's another thing. Why exactly did he give it to you, Ron?"

Ron was barely following along, but he shook his head at the sudden question. "I dunno. He said he hoped I'd remember him when I used it, so maybe—"

"Oh don't be an idiot. We know its official purpose is a crock. Its job isn't to put out lights, but to track and eavesdrop on Harry. So why'd he give it to you? Oh, that's right, because he knew you'd need it!" She practically snarled. "Dumbledore knew you'd betray us! You knew how important this was, you knew what it meant, what we were fighting for – and you left us! You left Harry; you left _me_! And Dumbledore knew you would! I wonder when he decided to leave it for you – must have been after you abandoned Harry in Fourth year, he needed to be sure. Merlin! What idiots we are. Even Dumbledore knew you couldn't be trusted. Even in the middle of a war, he knew you'd desert us. He planned for it, he made sure you'd have a way back after you'd left! You know what, to hell with Dumbledore's second chances, and to hell with you." She bit off each word in turn. "I don't know why we keep letting you back, every time you fail us, but it ends here! Harry, pack your things. We're leaving, and we're leaving the _weasel _behind us. This time, Ron, let's see how you like it."

* * *

**A/N**: I'd pay good money to see Hermione really stand up for herself. However satisfying it might have been to see her lay into Ron in 'Deathly Hallows,' it still wasn't enough.

Ron's behavior reminds me quite a bit of Remus, and that's not a compliment. I wonder whose behavior is worse. Sure, it took all of one month for Remus to abandon his pregnant wife in the middle of a civil war, but that's just because he's a coward. Ron, on the other hand, left his best friends in a fit of pique, to fend for themselves on a top-secret mission to defeat an incredibly powerful immortal Dark Lord.

Frankly, I consider this Exhibit A for my case that Ron is basically a child forced into adult situations and adult responsibilities. He's juvenile and irresponsible, not malicious, but that still doesn't excuse him.

As for the Deluminator, I can't believe no one else has pointed out just how creepy that trinket really is. Ron heard them talking? He followed them from campsite to campsite around the country? That's the sort of thing I'd expect from a horror flick! (Talk about taking the series in a different direction...)

And of course there's the fact that Dumbledore has had this device for who knows how long, and must have enchanted it well before his death. Am I the only one reminded of '1984'? Of course, such revelations hardly even faze me nowadays. Of course Dumbledore manipulates everyone, of course he tramples on others' rights in his pursuit of the greater good, and of course he tries to arrange to get Ron an undeserved second chance. It's just who he is.

I'm beginning to wonder if Rowling's characterization of Dumbledore really were an accident. It's hard to believe she could have described such a consistently creepy 'Big Brother'-type manipulator, if she were really intending to portray a grandfatherly 'Gandalf the White'-type hero. Was it incompetence that led to such confusion, or is she honestly incapable of telling the difference?


	11. The Man Who Knew Too Much

I don't own Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore. This one-shot contains content from 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets,' which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**The Man Who Knew Too Much**

"**Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the Infirmary, too?"Dumbledore said to Ron. "I'd like a few more words with Harry…"**

**Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore and Harry as he closed the door.**

**Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. "Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.**

"**First of all, Harry, I want to thank you, said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."**

**He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered own onto his knee. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him.**

"**And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was **_**most**_** interested in you…."**

**Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth. "Professor Dumbledore… Riddle said that I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said…"**

"_**Did**_** he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"**

"**I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'd intended. "I mean, I'm — I'm in **_**Gryffindor**_**, I'm…"**

**But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.**

"**Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd — I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought **_**I**_** was Slytherin's heir for a while… because I can speak Parseltongue…."**

"**You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort—who **_**is **_**the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin—can speak Parseltongue."**

_Wait, what? That doesn't even make sense._

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore soldiered on. "Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar."

Harry sat, agape.

"Not something he intended to do, I'm sure—"

The Headmaster spoke as though to soothe, but his words thundered in Harry's heart. "Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry asked in a horrified voice.

"It certainly seems so," Dumbledore replied in the same even tones.

For a second Harry sat in utter disbelief, then his heart surged with a brief insane desire to hex the Headmaster. _He put a bit of himself in me, and you're sitting there like it's no big deal?_ "Why—"

"Why did the Sorting Hat place you in Gryffindor, when he could see Slytherin's power in you? Listen to me Harry." Dumbledore spoke in that infuriatingly calm voice, while Harry's temper roiled beneath his attention. "You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue – resourcefulness – determination – a certain disregard for rules," he added with a quirk of a smile. "Yet you were still Sorted to Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."

_I am thinking!_ Harry ranted internally, his head bowed and mind racing. _Here I was, worried about 'strange likenesses,' and he goes and drops that little tidbit on me. 'A bit of himself' indeed! That's a far cry worse, thank you very much. Oh, but don't worry, it's no matter, at least I was Sorted right!_

After several moments of silence Harry wrestled his temper under control. His answer, when it came, was in an incongruously uncertain tone. "It put me in Gryffindor, sir, because I asked it to…"

Dumbledore's face lit up like a Lumos. "Exactly! Which makes you very different than Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely as this."

He pointed, and Harry's attention was drawn back to the red-tipped sword he had pulled from the Hat. As the Headmaster presented it to him, Harry noticed the inscription for the first time: Godric Gryffindor.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the Hat, Harry."

For a minute they sat in silence: Dumbledore in contentment at how he'd handled his protégé's doubts, Harry in disbelief at the Headmaster's apparent feeble-mindedness. _Unbelievable._ _He talks like my biggest concern should be about my House._

Then Dumbledore rose and started babbling, how he needed to get Hagrid cleared, and advertise for the now-open DADA post, and get Harry down to the Feast. Harry listened as if on auto-pilot, filtering out the Headmaster's words, to focus on his own thoughts. He hardly even noticed when Lucius Malfoy came in behind him.

Of course, he began to pay attention when he noticed that Malfoy was attended by a house-elf, the very one who had made his life miserable the past term.

_Dobby…_

Malfoy and Dumbledore were at each other's throats, as might be expected. Of course Dumbledore already knew that Malfoy was responsible for getting the diary to Ginny, though Harry wondered how the Headmaster had come to that conclusion, since he wasn't the one persecuted by a deranged house-elf all year. Harry listened mutely, not bothering to accuse Malfoy of the obvious when Dumbledore had already made it clear that Malfoy wouldn't be held responsible.

Finally, the blond wizard turned to leave, and Harry jolted to a start. Dumbledore looked at him oddly, as though wondering why Harry's temper had not led him to interrupt their conversation.

"Sir… can I give the diary back to Mr. Malfoy?" As also, Harry's instincts were to protect, and now his concern was focused solely on freeing that poor mad elf.

A few minutes later, Malfoy flew down the corridors and tumbled down the stairs. As he picked himself up and began to raise his wand, he was chased off by the newly freed Dobby, who stood proudly before the small Second Year.

"You shall go now." Malfoy went.

"Harry Potter set Dobby free!" The creature raucously exclaimed.

"Least I could do. Just promise me you won't try to save my life again." Harry glared, and Dobby withdrew into himself a bit. "I've just got one question, though. Will you stick around to help me? I have a feeling I'll need it."

"Dobby would do anything to aid the Great Harry Potter!" The house-elf clasped his hand in teary gratitude.

"Right." Harry said weakly. "Now, I'd better go. Hermione should be waking up soon, and I want to see her when she does."

Dobby exclaimed loudly once more in Harry's praise, then popped away with a resounding crack.

For his part, Harry rushed wildly through the halls, up the stairs, two by two, before coming to a panting rest outside the doors to the Hospital Wing.

Pushing them open, his vision quickly filled with a blur of bushy brown hair. "Harry, oh Harry! You solved it, you solved it!" The newly awakened Hermione screamed gleefully, jumping up and down even as Madame Pomfrey ran her wand over her body, checking to ensure there were no lasting effects.

Harry couldn't help but grin at his friend's obvious joy, even as his heart weighed heavy within his chest. Hermione's joy was infectious. But, as all things do, it soon came to an end.

Pomfrey hustled them out the door, directing them to the Great Hall and the Feast awaiting them there. Ron raced out the door, intent on getting to the food. Harry, however, grabbed Hermione's hand before she too could disappear, and pulled her off to the side. She followed with an odd look on her face.

He blushed under her intense gaze. "I'm sorry, Hermione, it's just—" In that moment his features were marred with the pain of this confession, and he began to ramble. "I know you just woke up, and I'm so glad you're back, but I don't know what to do and I figured if anyone would know it'd be you but I… I don't think I can, Hermione, I can't, can't tell you, you'd…." He forced himself to put his greatest fear into words. "You'll leave me, you'll think…" he broke down.

"Shh." A comforting hand stretched out and rested on his shoulder. "I won't leave you Harry." Her voice floated to him over his stifled cries. "Whatever it is, I'll be by your side as long as you need me. You're my best friend; say whatever you need."

He nodded impotently.

At last his tears dried up, and he was able to speak. "I just had a conversation with Dumbledore, and… did Ron tell you what happened? Down in the Chamber, I mean?"

Hermione nodded uncertainly. "He did, but not much. He said you beat the basilisk, and rescued Ginny, but there was something about a diary and You-Know-Who, I couldn't follow."

"Yes, the diary. It had been possessing Ginny all term to make her open the Chamber." Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "I had a conversation with it, down in the Chamber. Turns out the diary belonged to Voldemort, back when he was in Hogwarts himself. Mr. Malfoy planted it on Ginny last summer," Harry spat, before continuing.

"Anyway, Dumbledore asked me what the diary said. I don't think he wanted anyone else to know… he'd already sent Ron and the others away. Voldemort…" Harry took a deep breath, "Voldemort said we were similar, something about 'strange likenesses,' he said. I asked Dumbledore what he meant."

Harry paused for a few moments, and Hermione prompted him to continue. "Yes?"

"Dumbledore said… he told me that the only reason I was able to speak with snakes was because Voldemort was able to." At Hermione's confused look he smiled wanly. "That's what I thought. But then… then Dumbledore told me that Voldemort had given me his powers… 'accidentally put a bit of himself in me,' Dumbledore said."

Hermione's mind immediately started analyzing the Headmaster's words. "But that… that shouldn't be possible. Power-sharing rituals are incredibly compliated, it shouldn't be possible to…."

She stopped at the sight of Harry's expression. "Oh Harry! You were worried I wouldn't be your friend because Voldemort did something to you as a child?" At Harry's cringing nod she gave her most reassuring smile. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I told you before: I'm here as long as you need me."

She huffed affectionately. "Honestly, Harry!"

Harry's shoulders, tight with tension, slumped in relief. After a few seconds' pause he opened his mouth to thank her, when she shook her head. "Don't say it. You don't have to thank me for anything, Harry. I'm your friend."

They stood for a few moments long, looking at each other warmly, when her forehead wrinkled and she spoke again. "Harry, you said… Dumbledore told you this. So he's known it for a while?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not sure. It might have just been since he found out I was a Parseltongue, but… it sounded like it was somehow linked to my scar, and that was giving me pain all last year."

"Your scar? But…" Hermione stopped, forcibly turning her mind away from the topic. "No. Later, save that for later. We should get back to the Feast." She smiled at him brilliantly. "Never forget this Harry: I'll be with you every step of the way. We'll figure out what to do about this together, like we always have. For now, let's just get a good meal and good night's sleep, all right?"

And so they left for the Feast, aware only of the soft warm sensation within their hearts, hardly even noticing their hands joined between them.

* * *

**A/N**: This is the first of three planned one-shots based on this chapter of Chamber of Secrets alone. I'd originally planned on combining them, but I learned to never underestimate just how profoundly messed up canon can be.

Where would such a story go from here? No doubt the greatest divergence from canon lies in making Hermione aware of Harry's conversation with the Headmaster. It's not hard for me to imagine that Hermione would embark on a whirlwind tour of bonds and power-sharing magic. Given that this conversation directly foreshadowed the Book 7 reveal that Harry was a horcrux all along, it's not hard to imagine Hermione stumbling upon the truth at some point in the research. This would advance their horcrux hunt by several years at least.

There are a number of disturbing points in the conversation above, but the one that struck me most was how Dumbledore responded to Harry's horrified question "Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Consider: it had hardly been ten minutes since he was given the diary. To deduce that Voldemort had made more than the one, and that Harry was one himself… frankly, there simply wasn't enough time to draw such conclusions at that point in the story. By rights, Harry's words should have prompted more than mere casual acquiescence.

Or perhaps Dumbledore is simply that brilliant, that he can so quickly draw such an earth-shattering conclusion from very limited information while maintaining a façade of perfect calm. That sort of portrayal would be admittedly very interesting (Dumbledore in a deerstalker cap, saying "Elementary, my dear Severus; elementary"), but I fail to see the resemblance to canon. A master manipulator who knows far more than he ever lets on, however….

No, Dumbledore must have known Voldemort was using horcruxes long before Second Year, perhaps even before 1981. The only question remains: what did he do with that information?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?


	12. Rearranged

I don't own either Cornelius Fudge or John Major. This one-shot contains content from "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Rearranged**

**It was then, as he stood with a back to the room, that he heart a soft cough behind him.**

**He froze, nose to nose with his own scared-looking reflection in the dark glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned very slowly to face the empty room.**

**"Hello?" he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.**

**For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared statement. It was coming — as the Prime Minister had known at the first cough — from the froglike little man wearing a long silver wig who was depicted in a small, dirty oil painting in the far corner of the room.**

**"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Fudge."**

**The man in the painting looked inquiringly at the Prime Minister.**

**"Er," said the Prime Minister, "listen… It's not a very good time for me… I'm waiting for a telephone call, you see… from the President of —"**

**"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that.**

**"But I really was rather hoping to speak —"**

**"We shall arrange for the President to forget to call. He will telephone tomorrow night instead," said the little man. "Kindly respond immediately to Mr. Fudge."**

"Wait, what? You can…." The Prime Minister's thoughts raced ahead of him. "Yes, yes, please, I'll see him, there's no problem, if you could give me a moment before sending him through?"

He turned to his desk to scribble a quick note, stepped briefly outside to hand it off to his secretary, then hurried to take his seat behind his desk and wait for the wizard's arrival.

A portly man appeared spinning through the flame, a thoroughly incongruous sight, even more so when the man climbed out and appeared to flick specks of ash off his pin-striped cloak.

"Ah… Prime Minister. Good to see you again."

The Prime Minister did not make it a policy to exchange meaningless pleasantries, but this was clearly an exception to the norm. "Likewise, Mr. Minister. How can I help you?"

"Ah… difficult to know where to begin. What a week… I should begin—"

"Had a bad one too, have you?" The Prime Minister pressed, not a little impatiently.

"Yes, of course, same as yours: the Brockdale Bridge, the Bones and Vance murders, not to mention the ruckus in West Country…."

"You… er, you mean, some of your people were… _involved_ in those… incidents?"

"Of course." Fudge brushed off the Prime Minister's question with a noncommittal shrug. "The bridge didn't wear out, the murders weren't the work of Muggles, and it was giants, not a hurricane, that tore through West Country. Also, I should tell you that your Junior Minister – Chorley's the name, I believe – has been transferred to St. Mungo's Hospital. Poorly performed Imperius curse, I'm told. Addled his brain, made him act like a duck. Harmless muggle-baiting for the moment, but it might turn dangerous."

The Prime Minister struggled to get a grip on the other's words. "Giants… Imperius… what you do mean, harmless muggle-baiting?" His voice began to rise precipitously.

"Prime Minister," Fudge cut him off, "before I continue, I should correct what you said earlier. After recent events… well, suffice it to say I'm no longer the Minister of Magic. I was sacked three days ago, and the whole wizarding community was screaming for my resignation for a fortnight before that."

"What? But, but then… how are you here?"

Fudge looked a bit piqued by the interruption. "Pardon?"

"If you're not the Minister for Magic, how are you here? Why are you here? Why isn't the real Minister the one telling me all this?"

"Oh, he'll be along shortly. He's…." Uncertain, he turned to the portrait."

The ugly little man in the corner took the quill out of his ear and announced: "He's writing a letter to Dumbledore."

_As though that explained anything_, the Prime Minister thought angrily. "Dumbledore who, and why could it not wait?"

"Why, Albus Dumbledore, of course: Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, the pre-eminent wizard of our time. How do you not recognize the name? It should have been in the briefing packet."

"What briefing packet? I've never gotten anything from your office but the occasional whirligig visit."

"You never got the briefing packets? But I told Dolores…. Well! This is a sorry state of things." At a loss, Fudge turned to the portrait. "You'd best send him on through."

A few moments later the fireplace whooshed impressively, and an even more impressively leonine figure came through. "What's the emergency? I was in the middle of a letter."

Fudge was wringing his bowler. "Mr. Minister, the Prime Minister, sir, he… never got any briefing packets."

"He never…" Scrimgeour turned on his predecessor, heckles raised. "You mean to tell me, every time you reported how imbecilic he was, how little he understood even your simplest explanations… every time it was really your fault for not giving him the bloody paperwork?"

"I gave it to Dolores, how was I to know…"

"You gave it to _her_? You may have found her useful, but you knew as well as I how little she cared for Muggles. Why not give it to Arthur? He might disassemble the fellytone, but he'd at least come when he was supposed to. Merlin, Cornelius! You said the same about his predecessor as well, to the Wizengamot no less! This could set Muggle relations back by a decade at least… how could you not—"

Ever since Yalta, the office of the British Prime Minister has been increasingly unheeded in the halls of power and courts of public opinion. Ever since Churchill at Yalta, the person of the British Prime Minister has been increasingly powerless to do anything but let the resentment fester. So when two wizards decided to ignore him completely while hash out a long-standing quarrel about their treatment of him, it was several decades of frustration that led him to speak.

"Would someone just shut up and talk to me? This is my office, you can't just take it over and shunt me to the side! So Fudge messed up. But I asked a question, and no one answered it, so you're doing the exact same thing!"

Fudge caught his breath, as Scrimgeour turned and had to visibly calm himself. "Fine. Now, what was your question?"

A soft word may turn away wrath, but the Prime Minister was prepared to soldier on whatever the response. "Oh, I don't know, why don't we start with everything? Fudge still hasn't told me what's been going on, let alone why he's the one who came to tell me, and without the papers I doubt I'd be able to follow along regardless. But what I'd really like to know is why I'm not at this moment on the phone with the President of the United States. The portrait said you'd arrange for the President to forget to call, and I'd love to hear how that works."

Neither wizard spoke for several moments.

Without turning, Scrimgeour called: "Derwent?"

The portrait answered hesitantly, "Yes, Mr. Minister?"

"Are you or are you not familiar with the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Yes, Mr. Minister." Came the downhearted reply.

"So you know that Obliviation is the cornerstone of enforcing it, and as such is the single most classified item in the whole Statute?"

"Yes, Mr. Minister."

"Fudge." Now Scrimgeour turned. "The honors?"

With a fluid motion, the deposed Minister withdrew his wand. Before the Prime Minister could think to move, Fudge intoned, "_Obliviate._"

* * *

The Prime Minister shook himself back to awareness. Scrimgeour was speaking. "...must have been quite a shock. The Vance and Bones murders were magical, there are giants in West Country, dementors to the North and Midlands, Chorley's in St. Mungo's Hospital, and we've assigned one of our men to your protection. But the big news is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. Thought he was dead, but not so much. We're fighting a war, and I may not be able to meet with you often, so I'll be sending Fudge in my stead. Anything I miss?" He asked his colleague.

Fudge thought for a few moments. "Oh! Right. The reason you're not on the… felly, was it? …with the American Prime Minister—"

"President," Scrimgeour corrected.

"President, right – is that we sent someone else to sit down with him to explain the situation here."

"Why…" The Prime Minister tried to shake the cobwebs out of his mind. "Why are you the ones to sit down with him? Shouldn't you leave that for whoever does your job in the Americas?"

"Of course not, you dolt, the Americans don't…"

"Fudge!" Scrimgeour cut him off. "He never got the briefing packet, and that's hardly _his_ fault, as you'll recall."

"Oh. Right. Sorry?"

He didn't sound terribly sorry, but Scrimgeour marched on. "As Fudge was trying to say… the borders of the Magical World aren't always the same as those of Muggles. After the Salem Witch Trials, most witches and wizards left the colonies, and didn't return to the North at all until much later, a little after the Muggle Revolution, to be precise. By then, the Southern colonies were still mostly loyal to Mother England, but the Northern magical wanted to be independent like their Muggle counterparts. That issue was resolved after the War of 1812. They won, but we didn't exactly count it a loss to let them go. Mostly muggleborn radicals, you see. Anyway, the borders were drawn at the Mason-Dixon Line, so we British wizards kept jurisdiction over Washington D.C. That's why we're the ones to keep the American President informed. We'll send over the briefing packet with more information."

The Prime Minister found himself nodding along at the history lesson. When Scrimgeour ended, he shook himself once more. The fuzziness of his thoughts simply wouldn't go away. "Er... yes, thank you, that would be very useful. I suppose if that's all?"

"Of course."

The two wizards turned away.

After Scrimgeour disappeared through the flame, Fudge turned, an odd look on his face. "Ah… perhaps you should have that looked at. The head twitch, I mean. Can't be good for you." Then he was gone.

The Prime Minister rested at his desk for a few moments more. He got a headache every time the wizards came to call, but this one was worse than the others. At last it cleared, and he got up and walked over to open the door.

"Ah, Mr. Minister. Here's the note you left for me to give you. I tried calling the President as you requested, but he was unavailable. Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you, Kingsley. That will be all." He took the note and returned to his inner sanctum.

Odd. He didn't remember giving a note to his secretary. That headache must be really affecting him. He tore off the seal and began to read. A few seconds later, it slipped from his fingers, and he collapsed into his chair.

_Office compromised._

_POTUS 'made to forget' to call._

_Wizards can affect memory._

_Warn other heads of state._

* * *

**A/N**: This is the other "Wait, What?" moment from the first chapter of Half-Blood Prince. The Prime Minister may not have thought much of it, but the portrait's declaration – "We shall arrange for the President to forget to call" – should have prompted some response. He'd just learned that the President was somehow under the control of the British magical world. That alone should have stunned him.

But consider the implication for the muggle side of things. International diplomacy is a very delicate art, and a minor slight like forgetting to call without a proper excuse can quickly balloon into a much bigger problem. This holds true for allies, and especially for almost-enemies. I was sorely tempted to include a brief aside of how the Cuban Missile Crisis was a consequence of Kennedy failing to respond to a call by Khrushchev.

Of course, that's not what happened, but comparable diplomatic crises have arisen with less excuse. And it should be noted that a single missed phone call during that 13-day period would have almost certainly led to World War III. But I can't really see British wizards paying attention to any of that.

For want of a nail….


	13. Candy Caning

I don't own Hermione Granger or Fred Weasley. This one-shot contains content from 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,' which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Candy Caning**

**Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry. He edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread over Dudley's piggy face if he could see where Harry was now.**

**There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were 'Special Effects' sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ('breathe fire for your friends!'), Ice Mice ('hear your teeth chatter and squeak!'), peppermint creams shaped like toads ('hop realistically in the stomach!'), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.**

**Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop: Unusual Tastes. Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up behind them.**

**"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.**

**"How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.**

**"Definitely not," said Harry.**

**Ron nearly dropped the jar.**

**"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How - how did you -?"**

**"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!"**

**"'Course I haven't," said Harry. He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the Marauder's Map.**

**"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron, outraged. "I'm their brother!"**

**"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"**

**"No, I'm not!" said Harry.**

**"Are you mad?" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?" He grabbed Harry and led him over to their barrel. "Seen the Fizzing Whizbees yet, Harry? And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven - it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick."**

"Wait, what?"

Twin cries of dismay escaped Harry and Hermione.

"Walloping?"

"Burnt a hole through your tongue?"

"Yeah," Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pops box. "Came as quite a shock."

"And they sell those?" Harry cried in disbelief.

"What? Oh, no, it's not real acid. It just soaks through your tongue and makes you think that. Ten minutes later I was back to normal. Kinda fun, though I didn't like the sour taste."

"Oh."

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione cut in. "It's a prank candy. If it were real acid, it'd have burnt through most of his mouth. You really think they'd be selling it?" Hermione stopped and looked back at Ron with an odd expression. "But Ron… what were you saying about your Mum?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, she walloped Fred a few times before he could explain it was a prank. She still wasn't happy, though; I don't think he got dinner that day."

Hermione just gaped at him.

Harry, on the other hand, was unfazed. "Yeah, Aunt Petunia gets that way sometimes when Dudley complains about me. Though he mostly just makes stuff up." He muttered in disgruntlement.

"You mean she wallops you too?" Ron asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah, and the part about no dinner."

"Ah. What she use?" Harry cocked his head, so Ron tried to clarify. "I wouldn't think they'd go for a broom. I mean… they're muggles, you know?"

"Right. Well, she mostly goes for a frying pan. Hurts something fierce. Probably easier to dodge, though."

"Oh. Makes sense, I guess—"

"Would both of you just… _shut up_ for a second!" Hermione hissed as she finally broke through her stupefaction.

Harry and Ron shared a look.

For her part, Hermione was struggling to gather her thoughts. So far, she was failing miserably. "What...? How is…" She tried again. "I… I don't get it. I just…" She looked at Harry. "I don't understand. Help me understand."

Harry didn't know what to say.

Ron didn't either, but that never stopped him before. "Oh, come on, Hermione, it's not like it's a big deal," he said dismissively. "This stuff is normal! You mean your parents don't thwack you when you… oh, right. There's my answer: you were probably so stuck-up as a kid they never had reason to."

Harry silently glared at Ron.

"Hey, that's not true!" Hermione shot back, though her eyes were beginning to water. "I did plenty to make my parents upset. Doesn't mean they ever—"

"Yeah? So why'd they not thump you, then?" Ron finished exultantly.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. She never thought she'd be teased because her parents _weren't_ abusive. Distant, unaffectionate, impossible to please, sure, but that was as different as chalk and cheese. "I…. Because it's wrong! I mean, they're not... nice, exactly, but even they know not to be physically abusive. It's not the same!"

Ron bristled, and opened his mouth to retort.

Before he could, Hermione turned, wiping her tears away. "Harry, what you said… what your aunt did… that's not normal." Harry began to withdraw in on himself, and Hermione hastily tried to clarify. "No, no, I meant your relatives, they were the ones… they weren't…. Harry, physical violence is not normal for a healthy family, for any family."

"You sure?" Ron scoffed.

"Of course I'm bloody sure, I—!" Hermione stopped at the sudden realization that she had sworn, loudly, and that some of the other customers had heard her. "Of course I'm sure!" She lowered her voice to a sibilant growl. "It's wrong, and evil, and categorically _not_ normal. Harry, what the Dursleys did… it's a crime. They'd probably go to prison for it."

"So why aren't they?" Harry replied bitterly. "If it was so bad, why'd no one notice? Why didn't Ms. Figg notice the bruises every time she babysat me? Why do all my neighbors think I'm the bully when it's Dudley who scared off all my friends? If it's so bad, why hasn't Madam Pomfrey said something about my scars? Why didn't the Ministry? Why do I have to go back there every single summer?"

His voice broke in anguish, and Hermione rushed to his side and rubbed his back as he hunched over, trying to regain control.

Finally, he straightened, his cheeks wet but eyes dry. "You remember why I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron this summer, why I left the Dursleys?"

"Of course, we know, Harry. Hard to forget you blew up your Aunt!" Ron chuckled.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Yes, we remember, Harry, but you know that was taken care of, it was just accidental magic, after all."

Harry paused. "And no one ever wondered _why_ I had a bout of accidental magic even after two years at school? Isn't Hogwarts supposed to teach us how to control that?"

"Well, sure it does… but Waffling's Magical Theory says accidental magic can still happen in cases of extreme emotional… oh." Hermione trailed off, lecture forgotten.

"Yeah, missed that, didn't you?" Harry noted dryly. "So did everyone else. The Ministry sent a few folks to make it better, erase my Aunt's memory, and no one thought to ask why I blew her up and ran away? Or maybe they did, maybe they just didn't care. The Dursleys made me pretend I attended a school for criminal boys, and there was Aunt Marge, all hot and bothered because I wasn't being _beaten_ enough. No matter, Fudge himself told me I had to go back, even if my relatives were pissed at me. Didn't bother erasing their memories either, oh no, they're family." Harry raged. "So now they'll remember all of it, all the freakish things I did, and all the freakish people who came to their house to fix it. And no one thinks what a welcome I'll get next summer?"

Hermione gaped at him, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

"Harry… I…"

Ron shrugged. "Oh, come off it Hermione. I mean, sure, his relatives are rotten, but it's not like you'll be changing anything. You remember First year when Neville was telling us about his great-uncle dropping him from a second-story window? That stuff's normal." He glanced at the barrel. "Say, Harry… reckon Fred'll take a bite of these Cockroach Clusters if I told him they were peanuts?"

Hermione stood transfixed as the two boys wandered off to other parts of the store. She unclenched her fists, idly noting how her palms were scored by the pressure of her fingernails. "It's _not _normal," she hissed to herself, before angrily brushing the tears from her eyes. "I'll show you. I'll fix this. I promise."

* * *

**A/N**: There are many things disturbing about the Harry Potter series, and Rowling's casual treatment of child abuse is not the least of them. In the original scene, Ron's revelation – that Mrs. Weasley actually beat one of her children for giving Ron a prank candy – fails to garner any reaction from the others. This is distressing on so many levels.

Firstly, this was the passage that finally convinced me that Molly Weasley is not a nice person. Before it was pointed out to me (hat-tip to Katzztar) I was more or less on the fence. After, my eyes were opened, especially where it concerns Molly's treatment of the twins. In 1987, Fred was ten. While I don't consider all forms of corporal punishment to be child abuse, walloping a ten-year-old with a broomstick most definitely is.

The fact that Hermione doesn't comment on this is also troubling. I never figured her for an abused child. An emotionally neglected child, definitely. Being male, I don't exactly have experience with the emotions of prepubescent girls, but I would wonder at a twelve-year-old girl who cries in the bathroom all morning and all afternoon after overhearing an acquaintance insult her. Considering her eagerness to spend summers away from home, keep her parents ignorant of the magical world, and to erase her very existence from their minds, practically the day she could do so without falling afoul of the Trace… well, it's not a pretty picture, and that's before we even mention her willingness to marry Ron.

As for Harry, well, I figure he'd react in one of two ways. The approach I took in this one-shot was to present a child whose main concern is whether or not he would be viewed as normal. His reaction, then, is primarily relief, maybe with a tinge of defensiveness, that he really isn't a freak, that the Dursley's treatment of him isn't unusual.

The other approach, of course, would be to have Harry consciously realize the similarities between Molly Weasley and Petunia Dursley, and decide that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want her to be his surrogate Mum.

Where would this fic go? I imagine Hermione would make time to speak with George and Fred, maybe reach out to other houses for others who weren't raised in abusive homes. In time, she might convince Harry that the Weasleys aren't all they're cracked up to be, and maybe they should try to find a parental figure who isn't brazenly abusive. This would tie neatly into the end-of-book reveal that Sirius Black is Harry's godfather and (notwithstanding a decade of torture) actually a decent human being.

Has anyone ever written a story where Harry and Hermione actually join Sirius in flying away from Hogwarts at the end of Third Year? That seems like the natural progression for this plot line, their search for a caring and responsible adult culminating in sudden desperation to stay with this person, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences.


	14. Suicide Stone

I don't own Harry Potter or Cadmus Peverell. This one-shot contains content from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,' which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**Suicide Stone**

**The Snitch. His nervless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out.**

_**I open at the close.**_

**Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, it seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed thought. This was the close. This was the moment.**

**He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."**

**The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco's wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, "**_**Lumos.**_**"**

**The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and stone were still discernable.**

**And again Harry understood without having to think. It did not matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them. They were fetching him.**

**He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.**

**He knew it had happened because he heard slight movements around him that suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig-strewn ground that marked the outer edge of the forest. He opened his eyes and looked around.**

**They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved towards him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.**

**Lily's smile was the widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.**

"**You've been so brave."**

**He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.**

"**You are nearly there," said James. "Very close. We are… so proud of you."**

_Wait, what?_

In that instant Harry was struck with a most incongruous thought. So many times had he conjured this reunion with his family, in his most desperate imaginings, for lonely nights within the Dursleys' cupboard; so many times had he heard those words in his mind. Yet not once had he anticipated what those long-awaited words would mean.

"Proud of me?"

James' smile faltered, but only for a moment. "You are my son. Of course I am proud of you."

Lily moved closer. "We all are, Harry."

Harry desperately yearned to believe them. But he couldn't. Understanding had come again, too quick for conscious thought, but this time left him gasping with a need for answers.

"You are my parents – my father and mother. When I was barely a year old, you gave up your lives so that I could live. Your love protected me against the Killing Curse. When I saw your ghosts come out of Riddle's wand in the graveyard, you again protected me, gave me the time to escape. Now you're here, now at last we have the time to embrace, and all you say is how close I am to the end? How proud of me you are, that I'm walking to my death?"

James and Lily exchanged a quick glance. "Harry," his father began, "we know where you're going, and we know why. It is the only way to defeat _him. _We are proud because you've been so strong and sacrificed so much to make the world a better place."

Again Harry was torn. His parents' words of encouragement filled a void in his heart he had never felt before, but he trusted too much in his own intuition to ignore the gnawing sense of wrongness_. _

"But I'm not strong! I'm not going to _him_ because I'm so brave, but because I don't know what else there is to do. All this time, Dumbledore knew that I had to die, and only now am I learning about it, and _he_ has this deadline, and I don't have time to think of anything else, and I just wanted to see you before I died…."

His voice trailed off as another thought struck him, and now he stared in horror at the Stone in his hand.

_No._ _It can't be._

The Resurrection Stone.

Given by Death to the second of Three Brothers, who had asked for the power to recall others from death to life. Cadmus Peverell had used it to recall the spirit of his dead beloved, but was so driven mad with longing for her specter, he despaired of living himself. Cadmus committed suicide.

The Stone passed to his younger brother Ignotus, a wiser man than he, who knew not to trust in Death's largesse. Protected by the Cloak, Ignotus fashioned a ring in which the Stone could be set, in which the nature and effects of the second Hallow could be concealed. And so the Stone passed into legend.

Albus Dumbledore was the next to possess the Stone, having destroyed the ring in order to reach the horcrux it contained. He held the Hallow for less than a year, Riddle's withering curse inexorably stealing away his life, before that night on the Astronomy Tower. But how had Dumbledore spent his last months, knowing his death was approaching? Rather than warn others in the Order, or prepare them to keep up the fight in his absence, Dumbledore spent most of the year arranging his own death.

Dumbledore had allowed Draco to remain at Hogwarts, despite the danger to students and staff from his repeated assassination attempts. Dumbledore had encouraged Snape to assist Draco in his mission, even ordering him to take the Unbreakable Vow. Dumbledore had petrified Harry beneath the Cloak, so his protege would witness his dramatic final moments. Everything had been arranged for one purpose: to ensure that Dumbledore would die on his own terms, at a time and place he chose, even if the hand and wand were not his own.

The curse of Antioch, and all who held and used the Wand, was that they would die by violence.

The curse of Cadmus, and all who held and used the Stone, was that they would take their own life.

And in his Will, Dumbledore had given to Harry a Golden Snitch. Knowing that Harry must die, at at the hands of Voldemort, he had enchanted it to only deliver its precious cargo when it would be needed, when Harry would need that final push to keep him walking towards his death.

_I open at the close._

The purpose of the Stone was not to summon the dead, but to summon Death – not to restore life, but to end it.

_He__ was not fetching them. They were fetching him._

"No!" He growled at the Stone in his hand, ignoring the spectral figures around him_. I beat Voldemort's Imperius when I was fourteen! I will not be the puppet of some euthanasic rock!_ The stone seemed to cling to him, even as he concentrated on forcing his hand to let it drop.

"Son—"

"You are not my mother! You have her face, her features, everything I've ever dreamed that my mother would be – but your words are not your own! I will not let her memory be sullied by you!"

Harry returned his attention to the recalcitrant stone. "Now – get off me!" With one final burst of effort, his hand twitched and the Stone fell to the forest floor.

**"He's got an Invisibility Cloak," came a rough whisper close at hand. "Could it be—?"**

"_Stupefy_!" A streak of red light careened from behind a nearby tree.

Harry tore his gaze away from the Stone and looked around wildly. His parents had disappeared, and he could see Yaxley and Dolohov peering through the darkness.

"_Stupefy_!"

Yaxley's spell had gone wild, but Dolohov's was not. Harry dodged, but his movements were hampered by the Cloak, and his foot caught on a loose root.

"_Stupefy_!" "_Stupefy_!" Both of the Death Eaters fired toward the sound as Harry collapsed.

* * *

Harry awoke to the sound of laughter, some of them familiar. Here was the elder Malfoy's preening scoff, and there Bellatrix's mad cackling. One laugh, dry and breathy, was unfamiliar to Harry, but its origin was unmistakable.

"Harry Potter." Voldemort said commandingly. "On your feet, boy. I knew you would come – I knew you wouldn't stand to permit your friends to die for you. Though I didn't think you would turn back before you arrived." He sneered. "Dolohov entertained us with tales of your cowardice."

Harry took a deep breath as he stood, feeling the wand and Cloak within his robes. As in the graveyard, Riddle had made no attempt to disarm him before their 'duel,' nor had his followers been willing to brave their Lord's wrath by doing so in his stead. But Harry made no attempt to escape, nor did he draw his wand.

"Dolohov was wrong." Harry said, with all the force he could muster. He did not want to sound afraid. He was not afraid. He had triumphed over Death's trinket; Riddle was just another man. "I was not escaping. I simply wanted to come here for the right reasons."

Voldemort gazed at him, titling his head a little to the side, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"The Boy Who Lived," he said softly.

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting. Everything was waiting. Hagrid struggled silently against his ropes, Bellatrix held her breath between pants, and Harry thought inexplicably of Luna Lovegood and her wide silver eyes.

"_It's not as though I'll never see Mum again. Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you? In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them._"

Harry looked back into the red eyes as the other's wand was raised. He had not looked for Death, nor had it been his choices that drove him here. Yet he could not regret it, knowing that he would die to protect the lives of his friends.

Death was not an adventure to be sought, or a friend that one would rush to meet it. But he was the heir of Ignotus Peverell, and he would meet death as an equal now that his time had come.

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

* * *

Hary spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue.

"Harry." Dumbledore spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. "You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk."

"Albus. You unbelievable, unmitigated arse. I'd rather stand."

* * *

Needless to say, when Harry and his wife brought the last of their children to the Hogwarts Express one autumn morning nineteen years later, the child's name was not Albus Severus.

* * *

**A/N**: There's an excellent quote from "The Lion in Winter" (1968). "You fool!" says the one. "As though it matters how a man falls down." His brother, Prince Richard, responds:"When the fall is all that's left, it matters a great deal."

Like the first one-shot in this collection, this was inspired by my dissatisfaction with Harry's conversation with his parents through the Resurrection Stone. This time, I noticed the rather suspicious pattern, that everyone who possessed and used the Stone would invariably commit suicide. Hence the obvious conclusion: the purpose of the Stone is not to recall the dead, but to use those summoned spirits to drive its user to kill themselves.

Unfortunately, the only opportunity for Harry to have this realization comes too late in the books to define a true point of divergence. Thus, this fic does not alter events, so much as it alters Harry's perception of those events.

**A/N 2**: Several reviewers have already commented that Harry should just give the Stone to Voldemort. I considered it, but realized that Cadmus' curse only applies to those who use the Stone. Whose death would Voldemort regret enough to summon? Whose spirit could tempt him enough to die? Besides, even if such a one existed, it would drag this story in a completely different direction.


	15. He Who Must Not Be Named

I don't own Ron Weasley or Lord Voldemort. This one-shot contains content from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,' which does belong to J.K. Rowling.

I may not have the time to expand any of these vignettes into full stories, but I invite anyone else to give them a shot. So long as you credit me for the idea, any and all of these one-shots are officially up for adoption.

* * *

**He Who Must Not Be Named**

**Harry had finally managed to tell Ron the whole story of his and Hermione's various wanderings, right up to the full story of what happened in Godric's Hollow; Ron was now filling Harry in on everything he had discovered about the wider Wizarding world during his weeks away.**

"… **and how did you find out about the Taboo?" he asked Harry after explaining the many desperate attempts of Muggle-borns to evade the Ministry.**

"**The what?"**

"**You and Hermione have stopped saying You-Know-Who's name!"**

"**Oh, yeah. Well, it's just a bad habit we've slipped into," said Harry. But I haven't got a problem calling him V—"**

"**NO!" roared Ron, causing Harry to jump into the hedge and Hermione (nose buried in a book at the tent entrance) to scowl over at them. "Sorry," said Ron, wrenching Harry back out of the brambles, "but the name's been jinxed, Harry, that's how they track people. Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes some kind of magical disturbance—"**

"Wait, WHAT?"

Harry's exclamation was immediately succeeded by the sound of Hermione slamming her book down on a nearby stump. "That's it!" She stomped over. "I've had it! Would either of you tell me why you both keep yelling at each other?" Hermione glared at the two boys. "Well?"

"Go ahead, Ron." Harry said frigidly. "Explain it to her."

Ron's eyes darted between them. "Uh… sure? I was just asking Harry about the Taboo, seeing as the two of you using You-Know-Who's name, and I figured—"

"The Taboo?" Hermione stopped him. "You mean the thing that tracks _Morsmordre_?"

Harry turned to her, his face grim. "Pardon?"

She sighed. "You remember the Quidditch World Cup, when Barty Jr. cast the Dark Mark and suddenly all those Aurors showed up? I asked around – it turns out the Ministry's had that incantation jinxed for years now, ever since the last war. That's how they got there so fast." She turned back to Ron. "But I don't get what this has to do with Volde—"

"Don't!" Ron shouted. "That's why I'm trying to tell you: the name's been jinxed! That's how they found us at Tottenham Court Road. Anyone who uses You-Know-Who's name, it tracks them and breaks any wards around them so they can be captured."

"Huh." Hermione was impressed almost despite herself. "That actually makes sense. Only folks who were serious about standing up to him – like the Order – would dare to use the name, and the Taboo would make it easier to track them. I wonder if that's how they knew to post guards outside Grimmauld—we certainly said the name often enough while staying there."

"I heard they nearly got Kingsley with it too." Ron pitched in.

Hermione nodded. "The Death Eaters must've claimed the Taboo back when the Ministry first fell."

"I think you'll find," Harry seemed to seethe, "that it was more a case of them _reclaiming_ something the Ministry seized back when _he _fell."

Hermione looked at him oddly. "What makes you say that?"

"I think I finally understand why most people call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"He-Who-Must-Not —oh!" Hermione paled as she made the connection, her mind racing. "Harry?"

"I know."

"But why—?"

"I've no idea either."

"What?" Ron butted in. "What's the big deal?"

His question filled the silence for several moments.

"The big deal, Ronald," Hermione said waspishly, "is that the Taboo is obviously something You-Know-Who used during his first rise to power."

"So?"

"So don't you think someone should have mentioned that at some point?" Harry barked. "I mean, Merlin, no wonder people wouldn't call him by name! Every time someone did, they and everyone around them would die!"

"I'd bet a lot of people died the first time around before people figured out that the name was jinxed." Hermione said somberly. Then her eyes widened. "Harry, do you think that might be why you've had trouble getting people to believe you for all those years?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked her uneasily.

"Well, think about it. Even after you beat You-Know-Who the first time around, most people still wouldn't say the name. They probably associated it with all the people he killed."

Harry had a lump in his throat. "You're saying… every time I used the name, people thought I was disrespecting all the ones who died in the First War?"

"Well, yeah… or…" Hermione shifted evasively.

"Or what?"

"Or they thought you were using it to make a point." Hermione winced. "Like how, when You-Know-Who attacked _your_ home, you managed to beat him."

"But that— that's worse! That makes me out to be some sort of…"

"Deluded attention-seeker?" Hermione asked bleakly.

The lump in his throat grew. "Oh _Merlin_…"

"That'd certainly explain why it was so easy for them to make people believe the worst about you."

"That's… but if I'd known, I'd never—"

"Well _we_ know that, Harry, but everyone else probably assumed you'd been told at some point. I mean, for a while there you were the only one in school willing to call You-Know-Who by name."

"Besides Dumbledore of course." Ron chipped in helpfully.

It took several moments for that comment to fully sink in. Then in an instant Harry's anguish turned fully to rage.

"What the hell was Dumbledore playing at, then? Did he want people to not take me seriously? Was it all part of the plan, to have the Ministry waste a year trying to discredit me? Because it worked! Death Eaters have taken over the school, the Ministry's rounding up muggle-born like it's the bloody Holocaust… the Wizarding world is dying, and we're NOWHERE!"

Harry slumped against a tree. "I'm so bloody tired of having my strings pulled and my chain yanked with nothing to show for it. Merlin, even Krecher's been of more help to us than Dumbledore. Did he want me to fail? All those years he never told me about the Taboo, trained me to say the name—did he want me to get caught?"

Hermione caught him with an arm around the shoulder as Harry resignedly fell silent.

The silence lasted almost a minute before Harry broke it again.

"What I'd like to know," Harry's tired gaze rose to rest on Ron, "is why we're only finding out about this now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry scoffed. "Come on, Ron. 'Don't say the name!' 'It feels like a – a jinx or something.' How long have you known?"

Now Hermione was looking at him too, and Ron shifted his weight under their heavy stares. "I don't know what you mean," he said, half defiantly, half under his breath.

"Don't lie." Harry countered. "How long have you known?"

"You were telling us for weeks not to say his name. You expect us to believe you only found out about the Taboo after you left?" Hermione pressed him.

"I... I wasn't sure, all right? Give it a rest!" Ron barked.

"No, I don't think I will." Harry's voice was remarkably even. "What does that mean, you weren't sure?"

Ron's eyes appealed to Hermione for help, but she was in no mood to humor him. "I… I thought I remembered Mum mentioning once why they called him 'You-Know-Who,' and something about a jinx, but I wasn't sure, and I'd noticed that _they_ seemed to show up any time we said the name, so I figured it'd be safer not so, that's all."

"So why didn't you tell us that? Why'd you make up that stupid reason about 'showing You-Know-Who some respect'?" Harry's voice went cold, very cold.

"Hey! I'd just been splinched, and that wasn't my fault either. I had to think of something, didn't I?"

Hermione remembered that moment well: she'd splinched Ron during their escape from the Ministry. At the time she'd felt so bad for him that she kept Harry from pressing the point. Now, she did not feel nearly so accommodating. "What about later? You could have told us your reason at any point over the next seven weeks. You didn't."

"But there was one thing you did do." Harry picked up. "Every day for those seven weeks, every time one of us even started to say the name aloud… you called us on it. Every single time, without fail. That doesn't sound like you weren't sure. That sounds like you were very sure. So why wouldn't you tell us?"

Ron opened his mouth, briefly, but closed it without saying a word.

Hermione had already leapt ahead. "What happened in the Ministry, Ron?"

Harry looked over. "What's that?"

"Well, we broke the Taboo quite a few times while staying at Grimmauld, and that whole time he never objected once." Hermione explained. "But almost as soon as we leave the Ministry, he stopped us from using the name, even though he was splinched and bleeding and barely conscious at the time."

"So he learned of the Taboo at the Ministry, brilliant."

"But wouldn't tell us about it, remember that. If I had to guess, I'd say there was something about _how_ he learned about the Taboo that kept him from mentioning it to us."

"So he wouldn't bring it up…"

"…because then he'd have to tell us about this other thing, whatever it was."

"So what happened in the Ministry?" Harry was still facing Ron, whose eyes darted back and forth between the pair of them, his expression almost desperate in its intensity.

Hermione's eyes clouded as she tried to remember. "We were Polyjuiced – I was Mafalda Hopkirk, you were Runcorn, Ron was… Ron was that man in blue robes, I don't know, Rich something—"

"Reg." Harry corrected. "Reg Cattermole. From Magical Maintenance."

"Right." Out of the corner of her eye Hermione saw Harry discreetly palm his wand, careful to keep it out of Ron's line of sight. Her attention, however, was elsewhere. "Then Ron had to go off to clean some raining office…" Her eyebrows scrunched together. "But whose was it, whose—Yaxley!"

"Who?"

"The Head of the DMLE, that's who! Ron was clearing out rain from his office! Oh, Harry, I'd—"

"Shut up!" Ron broke his silence to interrupt her. "Don't say anymore or I'll—"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry had cast just as Ron began to swing his wand towards them. "We'll take that, thank you. Now," Harry moved to hand the wand over to Hermione, "what were you saying?"

She took it dumbly, not fully comprehending. "I was… I was just saying I'd bet all my galleons that Yaxley kept the device for the Taboo inside his office."

"That'd make sense." Harry grunted appreciatively. "Probably why his office was raining in the first place."

"Hmm?"

"Well, indoor rain isn't exactly a natural occurrence. I figure someone must have set it up to rain in there for a reason—either to keep Yaxley from using his office, or to keep the Taboo from working."

On being disarmed, Ron had fallen into a sort of stunned silence, but now he regained his voice. "Just stop it, stop talking, don't do this, you can't—"

"_Silencio_." This time Hermione was the one to cast. "Ron, how could you?" She accused.

Ron glared at her hatefully.

"Hey! You don't look at her like that!" Harry stood up to hi m. "If you won't tell the truth, you can't blame her for figuring it out despite you." He glanced back. "So, what were you saying he did?"

"He fixed it!"

"Fixed what, the Taboo? No, I don't think so. He was sopping wet when we met back in the lifts, and he told me he'd been sent to call in someone else from Maintenance to do the work."

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "So… he didn't fix it? Then why would he—" She paled. "You didn't."

Ron flinched.

"You did? Of all the times to listen, of all the times in your life to be marginally magically competent, you just had to pick this one! Someone jinxed the office, puts the Taboo out of commission; of course you can't counter the jinx, but what could you do? Cast _Impervius_ on everything, just like I told you! So when did you learn it was the Taboo? In the DMLE, or did someone in Maintenance clue you in?"

By now Ron was looking riotous, but Harry risked a quick glance over to her. "I'd say it had to have been in the DMLE. I mean, we could hardly blame him if he'd found out _after_ he fixed it."

"Harry, this is Ron we're talking about."

Harry blinked. "Right. So incredibly petty reasons are not out of the question. But it'd make so much more sense if — whoa, _Incarcerous_!" Even disarmed and silenced, Ron still had use of his fists. Ropes erupted from Harry's wand to stop Ron's charge in its tracks.

Hermione picked up the conversation after a brief silence. "It'd certainly make sense of why he wouldn't tell us? But why would he fix it, if he already knew what it was?"

Harry paused in thought. "Does it have to be either-or? Say someone mentioned it to him before he got to the office, but he didn't understand the warning until after he'd gone ahead and fixed it anyway."

"And wouldn't tell us, because it'd mean admitting he was the one who fixed it."

"Or because it'd mean admitting that he fixed it despite being warned not to."

"Uh-huh." Hermione nodded. "It's a lot easier to stomach Ron being clueless, than him being a secret Death Eater. But either way, where does that leave us? He kept this information from us for weeks, just to avoid looking foolish."

"And only brought it up now because he's been away for so many weeks he has an excuse."

A thought struck her. "Harry, what if he left because he _needed _an excuse?"

"Eh…" Harry frowned. "I don't know about that. We both saw that the locket affected him much more than it did either of us."

"Don't you think this might be why? He kept vital information secret because he felt too foolish to tell us any of it."

"And knowing his moods, he probably found some way to blame us for _making_ him feel foolish, for keeping him from telling the truth. Add to that the stress of making sure we never said the name…"

"So you won't say Ron left because he needed an excuse, but you will say that his lack of an excuse led him to justify leaving?"

Harry blanked. "Oh."

"No kidding. 'You say po-tay-toe, I say po-tat-toe,' much?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Besides, any difference doesn't really matter to our situation."

"What's that?"

"We still need to figure out what to do with the clod." She motioned with her foot toward the silent, still struggling figure.

"Right." Harry grimaced. "Any ideas?"

"You aren't going to like it."

"Let's hear 'em anyway."

Hermione sighed. "You know, I still haven't gotten over his willingness to leave us behind in the middle of a war. But after this… I don't know if I'd be able to trust him at all anymore. I think we should leave him behind."

Harry considered it for a moment, before abruptly chuckling. "So, 'let's call the whole thing off,' then?"

"Oh, honestly, Harry!"

"Sorry, sorry." He ducked, but Hermione's hand still thwacked the back of his head. "Right," he rubbed it ruefully, before dragging his thoughts back on track. "I can't say you're wrong… but I don't know if we can. Just leave him, I mean. We're in hiding for a reason: what if he gets caught?"

"That's precisely why we can't afford to keep him around! He told us himself how close the Snatchers came last time. Where would we be if they'd succeeded? Can you imagine how much harder our mission would be if You-Know-Who knew we were hunting horcruxes." Hermione practically snarled at Ron, "Your petty insecurities nearly lost us everything!"

She took a breath before turning back to Harry. "But, as you say, he knows too much for us to get rid of. But what if we could make it so he didn't remember the 'too much' he knew?"

"You're saying… we obliviate him?"

"Precisely."

Harry paused for a moment. "How much do we erase?"

Hermione nodded at this tacit approval. "Everything to do with horcruxes. Since the Order knows we're on a mission, we'll need to come up with one for Ron to remember."

"Why not say it had to do with clues left in Dumbledore's Will?"

Hermione blinked. "Nicely done. Of course, it helps that it's mostly true as well."

"Don't remind me." Harry growled. "So how do we get Ron to stay away?"

Hermione frowned in concentration. "Well, he was searching for us for a while. Why can't we say he only found us today, and that we wouldn't accept him back because of his leaving us earlier? I'd keep the Deluminator, of course."

"That'd work. Actually, I think that just about covers it, at least as far as the Order's concerned."

"And everyone else thinks he's just lain up with spattergroit, so no changes there."

"Right."

"Shall I, then?" Hermione brandished her wand.

Harry sighed. "I don't like it, but… what else is there?" A thought struck him. "We can still reverse the Obliviation after we're through with Riddle, right?"

"Of course, that's the plan for my parents. Why?"

"Because Ron is my friend, my first friend, no matter what — and someday, once this war is over I'd like to have that friend back. That won't work unless he gets his memory back."

Hermione sighed, trying to keep her displeasure to herself. Of course Harry would forgive and forget. War might delay things, but Ron would always have Harry's loyalty. "Yes, well. Leave that for later — right now he's just a danger to us and our mission."

Harry noticed that, for the first time in their conversation, Hermione's irritation seemed to be directed at him and not at Ron. He wasn't sure why, but he knew to leave well enough alone. "All right, go ahead."

Hermione stepped towards the bound figure. "Well, Ron, here we are. As always, it's been a profound disappointment. You know, for the longest time I thought I liked you. Part of me still does. You were safe, you were there, you were… not good enough anymore. If you ever get these memories back, you should know it is only for Harry's sake. There's nothing for us anymore, not trust, not friendship, nothing. Good-bye. _Obliviate_!"

* * *

**A/N**: As she does with so much else, Rowling drops the Taboo on us without much fanfare, even though it makes a huge difference for the story she told and the world she built. It explains so much, even down to the ridiculous psuedonyms used for the antagonist.

I am of two minds when it comes to Dumbledore not mentioning this to Harry. On the one hand, this may just be another example of wizards being idiots and Headmasters being incompetent. On the other hand, it's not inconceivable that the omission was deliberate, seeing as Dumbledore fully intended to have Harry die at Voldemort's hand. Perhaps this was the back-up plan.

As for Ron, I'm pretty sure Rowling intended to foreshadow the later reveal with his earlier insistence on not using the name. But setting the needs of the narrator aside and looking solely in-universe, it's clear something fishy is going on. And while I'm not convinced my explanation is the best, it does account for everything without requiring Ron to be secretly evil. I consider that something of a victory.


End file.
